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NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 


BY 

LOUIS  MOREAU  GOTTSCHALK, 

PIANIST  AND  COMPOSER, 

CHBYALIBR  OF  THE  O&DBRS  OF  I8ABBLLA  THB  CATHOLIC,  CHARLES  III.,  AXD 
-    LIOX  OF  HOLSTBIV-LIMBODBO;  MEMBBB  Of  THB  PHILHABMOKIO 
BOCIBTIES  OF  BORDEAUX,  VBW  TORK,  BATAVA| 
EIO  DB  JAB  BIRO,  ETC.  ETC. 


DURINa  HIS  PROFESSIONAL  TOURS  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES, 
CANADA,  THE  ANTILLES,  AND  SOUTH  AMERICA. 

PBBCBOEO  BT  ▲ 

SHORT  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  WITH  CONTEMPORANEOUS 

CRITICISMS. 


EDITED  BT  HIS  SISTER, 

CLARA  GOTTSCHALK 

TRAVSLATED  FBOM  THE  FBENCH  BT 

ROBEBT  E.  PETERSON,  M.D. 


"We  see  that  nothing  is  wanting  in  the  works  of  Gottschalk,  neither  yariety  in  the 
subjects  treated  of,  nor  originality  of  style.  He  merits  then,  as  composer  and  as  artist, 
a  separate  place  alongside  of  the  great  masters  of  modern  art." — A.  Mabmomtbl. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
J.   B.   LIPPIN'COTT  &  CO.; 

LONDON :  16  SOUTHAMPTON  STREET,  COVENT  GARDEN. 

1881. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress ,  in  the  year  1881,  bj 

ROBERT  E.  PETERSON,  M.D., 
in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  CSongress. 


TO 


THE  CITY  OF  NEW  ORLEANS, 


TBS  BntTHriiAoa  ov 


LOUIS  MORBAF  GOTTSCHALK, 


Wm  f  altttme 


IS   DEDICATBD   BT   HIS 


BBOTHEB  AKD  SISTEBS. 


(iii) 


/ 


CONTENTS. 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

CHAPTER  I. 

PAOB 

Parentage  and  birth — ^Musical  preoooitj — ^Delicate  health  of  his  mother 
— Removal  to  Pass  Christian — Mother  alarmed  by  hearing  the  piano 
— Great  surprise  to  find  it  was  the  child— Father's  resolve  to  have 
him  taught  music— Anecdote  of  the  negress  slave  and  child— Ef- 
frontery of  Indian — Return  to  New  Orleans 25 

CHAPTER  II. 

Mr.  Letellier,  his  teacher  of  piano— Mr.  Miolan,  teacher  on  violin- 
Rapid  progress — Plays  organ  at  cathedral  mass — Unable,  from  emo- 
tion, to  relate  his  success  to  his  mother — His  first  concert — Great 
success — ^Father's  resolution  to  send  him  to  Paris— Concert  before 
departure — ^Anecdote  of  Mr.  Barraud,  the  hairdresser    •        .        .29 

CHAPTER  in. 

Leaves  New  Orleans  for  Paris — Arrival  in  Paris — Hall6,  his  first  mu- 
sical professor — Afterwards  Camille  Stamaty — His  love  for  Mr.  Sta- 
maty — Composition  taught  him  by  Mr.  Maleden — Other  studies- 
Introduced  by  his  grandaunt,  the  Marquise  de  la  Grange,  to  the 
Duke  of  Salvandi  and  the  Duchesse  de  Narbonne,  Duke  d'Ecarre, 
Rothschild,  Edouard  Rodrigue — Great  memory  for  music — Musical 
mnemotechny  applied  to  other  studies — Concert,  non  payanty  at  the 
Salle  Pleyel — Could  America  produce  an  artist  ?— Great  success- 
Chopin's  prediction — Concert  at  Sedan — Hitherto  played  only  com- 
positions of  Beethoven,  Mendelssohn,  Liszt,  Thalberg,  and  Chopin 
— Writes  *Danse  Ossianique,'  *Les  Ballades  d'Ossian,*  or  *Le  Lai 
du  Dernier  Menestrel,'  *  La  Grande  Valse,*  *  La  Grande  Etude  Con- 
cert'^Anecdotes 31 

A*  (V) 


vi  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

PAQB 

His  mother  and  familj  arrive  in  Paris— Takes  charge  of  them— Con- 
cert at  Salle  Plejel  —  Thalberg's  predictions,  criticisms  —  Health 
delicate  —  Pedestrian  tour  in  the  Vosges  —  Singular  adventure -— 
Return  to  Paris  -*  Becomes  intimate  with  Rey.  Adolphe  Monod  — 
Anecdote  related  bj  Mr.  Monod— Concert  for  workmen  of  Mr. 
Plejel,  whose  workshop  had  been  burned  —  Account  and  criticism 
in  *  La  France  Musicale'  -*  Presentation  of  address  by  workmen  to 
Gottschalk 35 


CHAPTER  V. 

Mr.  Plejel,  Erard — Caricatured  by  *  Cham' — Anecdotes — Journey  to 
Switzerland — *  Le  songe  d'une  unit  d'6t6— Taken  ill  at  Rousses — 
Concerts  at  Geneva — Grand  Duchess  of  Russia — Princess  Weymar — 
Concert  at  Yverdon  for  hospital  for  the  aged — One  wing  named  after 
him — Notice  in  *La  France  Musicale,'  by  L.  Escudier — Criticisms 
and  notices  from  the  Swiss  press,  by  Julius  Eichberg,  Schriwaneck, 
Oscar  Commettant;  'Parisian  Press,'  by  Berlioz,  Ad.  Adam  (de 
rinstitut),  Escudier,  Fiorentino,  and  Th6ophile  Gautier         .        .    42 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Return  from  Switzerland  to  Paris — ^Leaves  for  Madrid — ^Visits  Bor- 
deaux, Pan,  Tarbes,  Bayonne — Dinner  given  to  him  by  Monseigneur 
Donnet,  Cardinal  Archbishop  of  Bordeaux — Notices  of  press  and 
criticisms  of  artists— Concerts  for  benefit  of  the  poor        .        .        .54 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Arrival  in  Spain — Concerts  at  Bilboa — Concert  for  benefit  of  the  Mai- 
son  de  Charit^— Reception  at  Madrid — Queen  Isabella,  Duke  of  Ri- 
ansares — Reception  at  Court — Plays  *  Bamboula' — Dedication  to  the 
Queen — Queen  Dowager's  ball — Courtesy  of  the  King — ^Legitimate 
triumph — Three  concerts  at  the  Teatro  del  Circe— Six  pieces  en- 
cored— ^Called  before  audience  seventeen  times — A  crown  of  gold 
thrown  to  him— Valladolid — Description  of  reception  by  Marie  Es- 
cudier— Invited  by  Colonel  the  Count  de  Pierra  to  review  the  Far- 
nesio  Regiment — Injury  to  his  finger  through  jealous/— Invited  to 
dinner  by  Dona  Josepha,  sister  to  the  K^ng — Presents  him  with  cake 
made  by  her  royal  hands,  diamond  studs,  and  x>ortrait,  with  her 
autograph — Returns  to  Madrid — made  honorary  member  of  the 
Academy  Artistique— Performs  *  Le  Siege  de  Saragosse'  for  ten  pi- 
anos at  Teatro  del  Principe— Wild  excitement — Presented  by  the 
celebrated  bull-fighter,  Jose  Redondo,  with  the  sword  of  Francisco 
Montes — Presents  by  Duke  and  Duchess  de  Montpensier — Leaves 
Spain  for  Paris  and  New  York         •        .        •        •        •        •        .59 


CONTENTS.  vii 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Arrival  in  New  York— Bamum's  offer  declined— Leares  for  New  Or- 
leans— Concerts  in  New  York  and  Philadelphia-— Concerts  at  New 
Orleans — Gold  medal  presented  to  him — Returns  to  New  York — 
Concert  at  Boston,  and  news  of  his  father's  death— -Leaves  for  New 
Orleans — Pays  his  father's  debts — Publishes  'Last  Hope,'  etc.— 
Eighty  concerts  from  1855  to  ]856^>Death  of  his  mother-— Returns 
to  the  Antilles,  in  company  with  Adelina  Patti — Composes  '  Colum- 
bia/ etc.^His  rest  at  Matouba— Other  pieces  composed— Again  at 
Havana — Organizes  a  great  festival  with  eight  hundred  musicians— 
'  La  Nuit  des  Tropiques'-— Created  Chevalier  of  the  royal  and  distin- 
guished order  of  Charles  lU.  by  Queen  Isabella — Arrival  and  death 
of  his  brother  Edward  in  New  York — Max  Strakosch's  offer  accepted 
—  Eleven  hundred  concerts  given— Leaves  San  Francisco  for  South 
America — Arrival  and  tour  in  South  America — Lima,  Montevideo, 
Buenos  Ayres — Concerts  given  for  benefit  of  Freuch,  German,  and 
English  hospitals— Gold  medals— Rio  Janeiro-— Marked  attention 
from  Dom  Pedro  and  Queen— Attacked  with  fellow  fever — ^Visits  to 
Emx>eror  Dom  Pedro— Soir§e  in  his  honour  at  Emperor's  palace,  San 
Christorao — Emx>eror's  delicacy— Kindness  of  Emperor  during  his 
sickness — Public  reception  by  clergy  of  Imperial  College  of  Alcan- 
tara—Concert at  Valenza — His  last  concert — ^Faints  at  piano  and 
conveyed  home— Illness— Conveyed  to  Tijuca— His  decease     .        .     66 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Notices  of  his  death — His  funeral  under  the  control  of  the  Philharmo- 
nic Society — ^Great  lamentation  in  Rio—  Burial  in  cemetery  of  San 
Jose  Baptista— Orations  at  his  grave — His  intentions  after  leaving 
Brazil  to  visit  Great  Britain — On  receiving  news  of  death  his  sisters 
leave  London  for  New  York — Gottschalk's  body  brought  to  New 
York — Conveyed  to  St.  Stephen's  Church— Funeral  celebration— 
His  body,  with  that  of  his  brother  Edward,  conveyed  to  Greenwood 
Cemetery — Monument  erected  by  his  brother  and  sisters         •        •    75 


POSTHUMOUS  CRITICISMS. 

GOTTSCHALK  AS  A  MAN 79 

GOTTSCHALK  AS  A  COMPOSSB  AND  PlANIST 80 


Viii  CONTENTS. 


NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

First  visit  to  Cuba — Havana — Forts  Morro  and  Cabana — Custom- 
house officers — Incident  on  the  steamer  from  New  Orleans — Counts 
M.  de  Cassato  and  Malaperta — ^Meeting  of  the  counts  in  Spain — Sin- 
gular coincidence — First  evening  in  Havana — English  travellers  in 
Spain — Requisites  for  travelling — Southerner  at  Saratoga — Imbe- 
cility or  bad  faith  of  travellers  in  their  accounts  of  slavery  in  Cuba 
— Illness  and  concert — Invited  to  palace  by  Marshal  Serrano — 
Opera  of  *  F6te  Champfttre  Cubaine'— Grand  concert  of  nearly  nine 
hundred  performers — Immense  labour  in  getting  it  up— ^pera 
troupes  expected  at  Havana— Triumph  of  Traviata — Effect  of  Tra- 
viata  on  the  ladies — Enthusiasm  for  La  Gazzaniga — Parties  of  Frez- 
zolini  and  Gazzaniga — La  Cartesi — Strife  renewed  between  the 
parties — Interference  of  authorities— Trip  to  Cardenas — Exports  and 
trade  with  United  States — Necessities  of  a  Spanish  city — Church 
and  theatre ;  of  a  Yankee  city,  hotel,  church,  newspaper  office,  and 
concert  hall — Concert  at  Cardenas — Return  to  Havana — Difficul- 
ties of  the  road 89 


CHAPTER  II. 

Country  of  the  Antilles — Interior  of  Cuba — Sugar  plantations — Treat- 
ment of  slaves — Life  at  Caymito^Bats — Books — Le  Sage— What 
renders  the  Spaniards  unhappy — Embark  for  St.  Thomas — St.  Do- 
mingo and  its  associations — Tales  at  the  fireside — Bras  Coupe — 
Assassination  in  St.  Domingo — Justification  of  the  negroes — Escape 
of  family  to  New  Orleans — St.  Thomas — Invitation  from  governor- 
general — Tliree  concerts — Event  of  the  evening — Chevalier  de  L 

— Frederick  Barbaroussa — Buccaneers— Bar baroussa's  tower  and 
fortress — Negro  traditions — St.  Thomas  a  free  port — The  exchange 
of  the  two  continents — A  naval  station  of  great  importance — ^Yellow 
fever — Town  of  St.  Thomas — Picturesque  ffetes  at  the  Port  of  France 
on  the  inauguration  of  the  statue  of  the  Empress  Josephine— Concert 
— Visit  to  Mr.  R.  at  Plazuela — Reception  at  Ponce — Concerts,  ladies 
— Barcelona  (la  Cote  ferme) — Escape  of  the  Busati  family — Hospi- 
tality of  the  Creoles — Madam  Busati — Opera  troupe  wanted  at  St. 
Pierre — Professor  of  piano  wanted — Regret  on  leaving  Martinique^ 
Piano  made  by  Henri  Herz — Reports  of  my  death — Funeral  homage 
to  the  bard  of  the  tropics — Description  of  superb  coloured  engraving    99 


CONTENTS.  \x 


CHAPTER  III. 

PAOB 

New  York  once  more — Six  jeara  foolishly  8i>eiit— Roaming  at  random 
— Conceal  myself  in  a  desert — Live  like  a  hermit — Poor  fool  for  com- 
panion— Description  of  cabin  and  surrounding  scenery — Compose 

.  ^Reponds  moi/  *La  Marche  des  Gibarros/  'Polonia,'  *  Columbia/ 
*Pastorella  e  Cavalliere,'  'Jeunesse,'  etc. — My  vagabond  life  re- 
stored to  me — Living  the  life  of  primitive  countries — A  \oice  in  the 
depths  of  conscience — Excuse  for  the  demi-savages  of  the  savanna 
— Strakosch  offers  an  engagement — I  accept — Poesy  and  youth-— 
Concert  at  New  York— Richard  Hoffman  an  artist  and  a  gentleman— 
The  artist  is  merchandise — The  press  of  the  United  States — Detrac- 
tors— 'Murmures  Eoliens' — Emptiness  of  human  things — First  con- 
cert at  New  York — Losses — Wallace  —  Barnum's  offer — Father's 
prejudices — Leave  for  New  Orleans — Enthusiastic  reception— Par- 
isian reputation — Thrown  on  my  own  resources — Family  obligations 
— Pay  my  father's  debts — Tour  in  New  England — First  receipts  at 
Boston — Discouragement — Losses  —  Return  to  New  York— Letter 
from  the  Countess  de  Flavigny — Hall's  offer — Success — Hall  pub- 
lishes *  Le  Banjo'  an-d  *  La  Marche,'  etc. — Rapid  sale—*  Last  Hope,* 
first  sold  for  fifty  dollars — Hall  purchased  it  from  the  publisher  for 
same  price — Immense  number  since  sold — New  York  as  brilliant  in 
1862  as  in  1857 — Foreign  journals  on  the  war — Most  governments  in- 
terested in  the  fall  of  the  republic — Ignorance  of  foreigners  concern- 
ing the  United  States — Instances  of  this  ignorance — Lacuna  in  our 
civilization — Brignoli — Companion  of  the  desert  follows  me  to  New 
York 117 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Chicago — City  raised  from  ten  to  twelve  feet — House  raising — ^Flour 
and  grain  at  Chicago — Milwaukee — Banner  of  *  Great  Hole  in  the 
Day' — Sioux  massacre  in  Minnesota — Philharmonic  society,  theatre, 
and  concert  hall  at  Milwaukee — French  cook  gives  a  dinner — Ama- 
teurs of  great  talent — Convoy  of  wounded — Multiplication  of  Miss 
Nightingales — Toledo— Rage  for  conversion — Hamilton  (Canada) — 
English  soldiers — ^Musical  taste  not  developed — Never  listen  to  the 
public — Bishop  of  Chicago— Mdlle.  Patti — Affecting  incident  at  sta- 
tion— Lockport — Lincoln  pardons  a  young  soldier  condemned  to 
death — St.  Louis — Society  divided  into  cliques — Catholics  in  the 
majority — German  professor  of  music — Maladroit  imitation  of  the 
great  professor  of  Bonn — Soap  not  incompatible  with  genius — Mass 
at  Father  Ryan's  church — Why  does  the  priest  get  out  of  the  key  ? — 
Sacred  music — Serenade  to  General  Halleck — Announc«'s  great  vic- 
tory, and  also  a  sad  one — Cincinnati — Library  of  Young  Men's  Mer- 
cantile Association — Commerce  of  Cincinnati  in  lard  and  hams — 
Visit  slaughter  house — Jackson's  defeat  of  Banks — Seventh  regi- 
ment of  New  York — Riot  in  Baltimore — Bad  business — Superb  con- 
cert at  Philadelphia — *L' Union'  excites  great  enthusiasm — After 
concerts  in  New  York  and  Philadelphia  leave  for  Washington — 
Anxious  to  see  army  of  the  Potomac — Incident  on  the  way  to  Wash- 


CONTENTS. 

TA.9E 

ington  in  1856 — ^Winter  of  1856 — Seven  hours  from  Brooklyn  to  New 
York — Reach  the  Chesapeake— Yankee  activity  of  mind — His  adap- 
tability— Trains  taken  for  troops — In  the  cars  for  Washington — 
Five  hundred  thousand  troops  on  foot  in  twenty-four  hours — Car 
fitted  up  for  kitchen — ^Meals  given  by  ladies  of  Philadelphia  to  three 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  men — Ladies  enrolled  as  nurses — Fifth  i 

volunteer  corps  New  York  artillery — Comfort  of  sleeping  cars  .132  i 


CHAPTER  V. 

i 
•  I 


Convent  of  the  Sisters  of  the  Visitation — Daughter  of  General 
— Presentation  by  the  lady  superior  in  the  name  of  the  scholars — 
Heller — Titiens,  Negrini,  and  Ullman — Ristori — Rachel — Academy 
of  Music  at  Philadelphia,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  in  the  world — 
Concert  at  Washington — Whole  diplomatic  corps  present — Count 
Mercier,  Mr.  de  Tassera,  the  Spanish  minister,  Baron  Stockel,  Mr. 
Blondel,  Belgian  minister,  Chevalier  Bertinati-^— Plays  the  national 
air  of  each  country — President  Lincoln — His  person  and  character — 
Concert  alone  at  Worcester — Amateur  annoyance — Anglo-Saxon 
method  of  playing  music  wholly  speculative — Horror  of  musical  Pu- 
ritans— Englishman  before  a  picture — How  he  forms  a  judgment — 
Anglo-Saxon  lacks  the  pensive  element — Chickering's  music  hiiU — 
Success  of  aeronaut  at  battle  of  Richmond — Seventh  regiment  New 
York  volunteers — Mr.  B.,  a  furrier,  almost  a  theatrical  monomaniac 
— ^Mr.  B.  forms  an  Italian  opera  company — Miss  B.'s  marvellous 
toilet  said  to  cost  five  thousand  dollars — Second  concert  at  Provi- 
dence— Tillman — Monster  representatit)ns — Hermann — Portsmouth 
a  charming  town — Pretty  girls — Baby  show  by  Barnum — Portland, 
Maine — Magnificent  concert — Salem^*Madamina'  of  Don  Juan — Su- 
sini — Mistake  of  the  amateurs — Mason,  the  pianist — Springfield, 
Massachusetts — Matinee  at  Newark,  New  Jersey — Burlington,  Ver- 
mont— Bishop  Hopkins — On  the  way  to  Montreal — Horrid  French  of 
the  Canadians — ^Montreal — La  Chine — St.  Lawrence  River — Visit  to 
Alvarge  Island — Daughter  of  Trobriant — ^Madam  Stevens,  of  Boston 
— ^Miss  Reed — Captain  Blair — Lord  Dunmore — Quebec — *  L' Ange  d6- 
chu'  of  Ealkbrenner — Streets  crowded  with  priests — Convents — 
Commerce  of  Quebec — Pronunciation  of  the  Canadians — Interment  of 
a  sergeant  of  artillery— Singular  music— Reviews  on  the  Esplanade 
— Band  plays  *  Dixie' — Canadian  vocabulary — Lord  Dunmore  tries 
to  run  the  blockade — Ottawa — House  of  Parliament         •  .  145 


CHAPTER  VI. 

'Ballad  to  the  moon,'  by  Alfred  Musset — Watertown  —  Singular 
Frenchman — Kingston — Toronto— Marble  Heart — ^Dion  Boucicault — 
Batavia — Indian  tomb — Geneva — Immense  concert — Rev.  Mr.  Reed 
— ^Most  beautiful  country  in  the  world — School  girls'  picnic — Elmira 
— Oswego— Commerce  of  Oswego — Lake  Ontario — Rome — Utica  — 
Charming  town— General  McClellan — Jefferson  Davis  —  Reports 
about  McClellan — Cleveland — Sunday  and  suicide — Lake  Erie — 
Madam   S  D  —^Toledo— Michigan — Stupid  audience-— 


CONTENTS.  Xi 

VACl 

Singular  notice— The  farmer's  fife-— Singular  playing — Scotch  melo- 
dies— Hotel  Augier,  at  Cleyeland — Ghoet — Sandusky — Patti  fright- 
ened— Embalm^  bodies— Zanesrille— Soldiers  among  the  audience 
^Sandusky — ^Warrant  of  arrest— Zanesville  to  Columbus — ^Prisoners 
of  war— -A  Virginian — American  defect  of  Judgment  on  art— Blind 
Tom — Criticism  on  article  in  '  Atlantic  Monthly*— Note  of  '  Pattes  de 
Mouche,' — Intense  cold  at  Cleveland- Unpleasant  experience- 
Meals  at  hotels— Madison,  Wisconsin — Archbishop  of  Cincinnati 
preaches  against  the  theatre— The  state  of  religion  in  the  United 
States— Which  most  to  be  feared,  the  fanatics  of  the  Bible,  or  the 
fanatics  of  Rom^— Puritans— Funds  for  printing  Bibles— Indianapo- 
lis— ^Major  under  arrest— Great  snow  storm-^-Men  in  the  field  with- 
out blanketa— Splendid  regiments  of  cavalry— Pine  artillery— Bat- 
tle of  Fredericksburg  going  on — Singular  audience— Whistling  of 
enthusiasts — ^Late  comers  at  concerts — Talking — Live  on  the  rail- 
road— ^Most  memorable  events  of  my  daily  existence- Richard 
Storrs  Willis,  and  my  engagement  to  be  married— Not  yet  arrived 
at  that  blest  haven— The  muse— Old  bachelors  to  be  pitied — The 
poor  dervish  in  the  Arabian  tale— Success  at  Chicago^Chicago  most 
resembles  New  York — ^The  ladies  beautiful— Immense  stores —Trade 
—Milwaukee— Female  furrier,  daughter  of  a  Countess  de Re- 
markable fact  as  to  Russians  and  musidana  in  United  States  .        •  159 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

Last  tour  of  concerts  given*— Their  number  ^Effect  nx>on  me  — 
Thoughts  of  the  Antilles-Wish  to  give  three  oonoerts  in  one  day— 
The  first  pianist  who  has  accomplished  it— Romantic  cause  of  my 
failure — ^A  class  for  whom  the  arts  are  only  a  fashionable  luxury, 
and  music  an  agreeable  noise — Artists,  how  appreciated  by  many 
— Do  not  write  for  these — The  disinherited  by  thought — ^Lamer- 
tine's  description  of  music— Music  a  psycho-physical  phenomenon^ 
Its  influence— Nature  of  music — Neuralgia — Dr.  Smith— Tremont 
House,  Continental  Hotel,  Philadelphia  —  New  Year's  Day  —  A 
magical  epoch — Letter  in  *■  Home  Journal'  by  a  lady  of  IndianaxK>li8 
— Approbation  of  a  mother  of  my  'Berceuse'  ('Cradle  Song')— 
Never  more  delightfully  affected  —  Letter  signed  "Mrs.  Frank 
Smith"— '  Berceuse,' why  composed 174 


CHAPTER  Vin. 

Springfield  (Hlinois) — St.  Nicholas  Hotel  t — ^Tribulations  and  mor- 
tifications— Concert  at  Washing^n — Great  success — General  Her- 
ron  from  New  Granada — Soldiers  present — Reminded  of  Schiller's 
'  Wallenstein' — Squint-eyed  gentleman — Glad  to  know  the  man 
who  could  make  twenty-five  percussions  in  a  second — Go  to  General 
Wadsworth's  camp— Mr.  Seward,  Secretary  of  State,  desires  to  see 
me,  as  a  Louisiauian  faithful  to  the  Constitution — Baron  Mercier's 
house  burned  —  Madam,  the  Baroness,  borrows  stockings  from 
Madam  Rigo— Take  the  oath  of  allegiance — Horror  of  slavery  made 


xii  CONTENTS. 

PAQB 

me  emancipate  my  negroes — Recognize  but  one  principle,  that  of 
the  Constitution — South  leans  upon  two  political  errors — No  illu- 
sions regarding  the  negro — Alexandria — Marshall  House  Hotel- 
Colonel  Ellsworth    186 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Pianistomonambulist ! — My  destiny — Public  physiognomy — ^Why  is 
the  audience  one  day  enthusiastic,  another  day  cold  ? — Germans  or 
Dutch  ? — Subscribers  to  *  Mason's  Musical  World,'  'Dwight's  Jour- 
nal,' *Home  Journal' — Fancy  but  one  public — Young  girls  from 
the  boarding-school,  the  most  interesting  element — *  Last  Hope' 
and  *  Pastorella' — The  fabricated  Beethoven — The  great  dead  !  how 
many  little  crimes  committed  in  their  name  I — Chopin — Fashion — 
The  pagan  of  art — Fetish  worshippers — Rhetoricians  of  Byzantium — 
The  self-made  Aristarchus — Hoffman  and  beer — Beethoven,  Liszt, 
and  long  hair — Opinion  of  myself — My  existence  for  fifteen  months 
that  of  a  carpet-bag — How  avoid  becoming  brutalized — Commenced 
writing  notes  of  travel — ^My  pocket  books — Discreet  friends — Their 
pages  like  the  side  of  an  obelisk — Only  an  American,  and  a  pianist 
— Elmira — Length  of  hours  on  Sunday — Sunday  in  America — Zeal 
of  the  Bible  societies — Tract  societies — The  good  man  in  the  Sunday 
train  between  New  York  and  Philadelphia — How  I  spent  Sunday 
at    Elmira — Piano    forbidden — Sunday  at    Cape    May — Rev.   Mr. 
Beecher — The  present  generation  of  Beechers — Williamsport,  Pa. — 
Millinery  and  ice  cream — Newspaper  publisher  and  patent  medi- 
cines— The  town  in  commotion — Rebels  marching  on  the  capital — 
General  Lee— Federal  general-in-chief  not  to  be  accused  of  want  of 
skill — Large  extent  of  territory  embraced  by  the  war — McClellan 
and  Quaker  guns — General  Scott's  opinion  of  Lee — Despatch  from 
the  Governor  of  Pennsylvania — Volunteer  military  band — All  Ger- 
mans— United  by  their  hatred  of  time — Great  consternation — Pa- 
triotic meetings    organized — Concert — Madatn  Strakosch — Family 
of  the  Pattis— Barili — Carlo  Patti — What  a  family  ! — An  incom- 
parable young  man  crosses  the  hall  on  tiptoe — Advised  putting  off 
concert-  at  Harrisburg — General  Ewell — Stuart  of  Lee's  cavalry- 
Woman's  imagination — Her  influence  at  times  to  be  deplored — 
Conduct  of  Southern  women — Strong-minded  women  of  New  Eng- 
land— Females  of  New  Orleans — My  friend's  statement — General 
Butler— Miss  Beauregard — ^Lady  De  Forli — Charlotte  Corday  .        .  190 


CHAPTER  X. 

Williamsport — ^Fresh  telegram  from  Governor — Guards  to  hurry  to 
defence  of  capital — ^My  cousins — One  in  the  Northern,  another  in 
the  Southern  army — Hagerstown  in  the  possession  of  the  Confede- 
rates— On  the  road,  to  Harrisburg — Everybody  frightened — ^What 
shall  we  do  ? — Concert  out  of  question — Road  obstructed  by  freight 
trains,  wagons  of  all  sorts,  etc. — Train  stops  on  middle  of  the  bridge 
over  the  Susquehanna — Great  anxiety — Women,  dead  with  fright, 


CONTENTS.  xiii 

TAQM 

do  not  cease  talking  —  Tired  of  saflpense  —  Strakosch,  Madam 
Amelia  Patti,  and  myself  get  out  of  the  cars — Station  encumbered  by 
mountains  of  trunks — Discover  my  two  pianos — Chickering  Sons-*- 
Three  thousand  men  at  work  on  the  intrenchments — Clergy  place 
themselves  at  the  disxK>sition  of  the  Governor  for  defence  of  the  city 
— Troops  from  New  Jersey  and  New  York — New  York  reporters- 
Sensational  news — Dinner,  gentlemen  I — The  poor  lAacks — Cattle 
driven  towards  the  mountains — General  Milroy  defeated — A  young 
man  just  killed  on  the  fortifications — Report  concerning  McClellau— > 
Know  McClellan — Old  men,  women,  and  children  leaving  the  city — 
Murmurs  against  Philadelphia — Beauregard's  factotum  and  barber 
— Ramon — His  singular  history — A  little  Spanish  boy  adopted  by 
me  in  Spain — The  tocsin  sounds — Bands  parade  the  streets — What 
does  military  enthusiasm  amoutit  to  f— Which  side  is  truth  ?-^  • 
Jefferson  Davis  on  one  side,  and  Lincoln  on  the  other,  order  thanks 
to  the  Almighty — ^The  panic  increases — A  general  sauve  qui  peut--^ 
All  kinds  of  vehicles  put  into  requisition^Train  leaves  in  a  few 
minutes — Great  confusion — Curse  my  gallantry — Ladies  give  no 
thanks  for  courtesies  rendered — ^At  Philadelphia — ^Leave  for  New 
Brunswick — Concert  at  New  London — Drawing  for  recruits  com- 
menced— Irish  resist — Rioters  bum  railroad  bridge  at  Harlem — 
Troops  ordered  from  Morris's  Island  —  *  Tribune'  office  burned— 
Presented  with  basket  of  flowers — Fitchburgh — Nashua — News  of 
taking  of  Port  Hudson  received — Manchester — Forced  to  give  up 
concert 208 


CHAPTER  XI. 

On  a  tour — ^Mademoiselle  Cordier,  Brignoli,  Carlo  Patti,  Behrens, 
Max  Strakosch,  Ashforth — Behren's  weaknesses — ^Devivo,  Levy — 
A  blessing  to  hotel  proprietors — ^A  tempest  of  snow — Rockford — 
Young  ladies'  seminaries — Cultivating  the  mind  and  improving  the 
taste  imperative  among  American  women — Prefer  our  system  of 
educating  women  to  that  of  Europe — ^A  sleigh  ride — Its  disagree- 
ableness — ^Winter  true  season  for  inspiration — Sacrifice  myself — 
End  of  the  ride  a  seminary  of  young  girls — Germans  and  spectacles 
—Curiosity  of  the  young  girls — *  Maiden's  Prayer' — Female  ser- 
vants— Harvard — Tempest  of  snow — ^Agreeable  surprise — 0  civil- 
ization ! — ^Rash  judgment  and  agreeable  surprise — ^Return  to  the 
cars — Strakosch  was  nearly  frozen — Have  to  pass  the  night  at 
Harvard — Fifty  or  sixty  passengers — Disabled  soldiers,  etc. — Re- 
minded of  a  storm  at  sea — Terrible  condition  of  things — Obtain 
lodgings  at  the  postmaster's — The  postmaster  and  his  family — 
Poverty,  but  not  want — Europe  cannot  understand  the  character 
of  the  American  farmer — Good  night — Condition  on  awaking — The 
trapper's  signs  of  cold  win-ter — Muskrats  and  trout — Sick  young  * 
soldier — Anxiety  for  him — Noble  hearts  in  this  world  of  dollars 
and  cents — Sufifering  from  the  cold  of  men  and  cattle — Milwaukee 
impossible 221 

B 


xiv  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

PAaB 
Adrian,  Michigan — Infamous  concert«--One  dollar  admission  I — ^Three 
weeks'  rest  in  New  York— T-Washington's  birthday— -New  series  of 
conoerts — After  which,  extreme  West  —  Placed  'Union,'  great 
enthusiasm — Bridgeport — Tom  Thumb  and  Barnum — Concert  in 
New  York — Hartford — Singular  conversation  between  two  ladies — 
Boston — Most  English  in  appearance— The  aristocratic  city — Cam- 
bridge and  her  poets — ^Boston  organ — ^Mr.  Perkins  and  Beethoyen 
— Fremont  Hall ;  the  best  for  hearing,  and  most  magnificent  in  the 
world — Providence— Aristocratic  city — Its  founder — Large  audi- 
ence —  Sunday  —  Julius  Eichberg  —  Mason's  new  organs  —  Boston 
Institution  for  Deaf  and  Dumb— Presents  from  the  deaf  and  dumb 
— Letter  from  Laura  Bridgeman,  deaf,  dumb,  and  blind — Spring- 
field— Small  audience— Curious  accident  while  playing — Arrive  in 
New  York — D^but  of  Miss  Harris,  young  American  prima  donna — 
Play  quatuor  of  Beethoven — New  Haven — ^Yale  College— Puritan- 
ism disappearing  in  New  England — Episcopalians  and  Lent— Stam- 
ford— ^Two  large  colleges  for  young  girls — Re-appearance  of  Brignoli 
— ^The  tenor  par  excellence — ^Mirate,  Mario— Mazzolini — Character 
of  his  voice — ^What  pleases  the  public — *  lone,'  success  of — ^To  what 
owing — ^Timidity  of  Brignoli — His  indisxK>BitiQn  in  second  act  of 
'Somnambula' — Lotti,  a  young  German  tenor — ^An  ovation — Ex- 
citement of  the  New  York  exquisites — Brignoli's  stag's  head  and 
horns — His  fear  of  the  *evil  eye' — ^Deplorable  concert — Silence, 
when — **  Short  and  sweet" — Only  concert  where  pieces  not  encored 
— Musical  celebrities  who  have  succeeded  me — **  Sam" — **  Charley 
such  a  one,  first-rate  drummer  who  can't  be  beat" — ^Anomalies  in 
credulity  of  Americans — ^Manners  of  children  at  table — Manners  of 
men,  from  being  **too  manly" — If  }>olite,  trifles  attended  to,  less 
shameful  degradation — ^Matin6e  at  New  York — Large  audience — 
Departure  of  first  negro  regiment  for  the  war — Paterson,  New 
Jersey — Nine  tickets — New  Jersey  poorest  place  in  the  world  to 
give  concerts  in — Examples  —  Harry  Sanderson's  experience— 
Ignoble  observation — The  French  philosopher  right — Concert  in 
New  York  for  benefit  of  Harrison— German  opera  broken  up  for 
want  of  money — Fine  concert  at  Philadelphia — Liberal  movement 
making  way — New  York,  play  with  Sanderson — Reasons  for  being 
proud  of  him-*Norwalk — Sanitary  fairs  everywhere— Unfortunate 
prejudice— Appreciated  at  our  value  !  I— Handsomest  little  hall  in 
the  United  States— Amiable  audience,  warm,  intelligent,  elegant- 
Charms  which  turn  the  heads  of  pianists — *'  Dear  Norwalk,  I  love 
you" — Stamford,  bad  impressions  of — Norwalk — ^No  good  segars— > 
Leave  for  Boston — ^Trunks  left  behind— Concert  at  Boston,  play 
badly — Madam  Anna  Bishop— Her  illustrious  husband — *  Home, 
Sweet  Home' — Her  great  popularity  in  the  United  States — Sunday 
—Ennui,  ennui,  ennui    •        •        .        • 231 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Leave  for  Norwich— Travelling  music  master— Arrive  at  Norwich — 
Professor  Whittleny  introduces  himself — Singular  personage  — 


CONTENTS. 

'  Music  Vale' — ^A  greater  amateur  of  whiskey  than  of  mnsio— New 
London — Ratio  of  churohes— Questionable  taste— Leave  Philadel- 
phia for  Baltimore— Madam  Variani,  Edward  HolTman— Richard 
Hoffman—*  Dwight's  paper'— A  bilious  reservoir— Required  by  the 
musical  profession — En  route  for  Baltimore— Noisy  soldiers^-Their 
vulgar  l^haviour — On  furlough — Officers  say  no  right  to  control 
them — Bad  effects  of  whiskey— Concert  at  Baltimore — Love  for 
Baltimore  and  its  people^Their  love  for  art — Concert  at  Washing- 
ton— Swedish  Minister,  Count  Pieper — Been  to  Alexandria — Deso- 
lation everywhere—Concert— Adventure  on  road  back  to  Washing- 
ton— StrakoBch  and  the  German  sergeant— Concert  at  Washington 
— The  President  and  his  lady— Mrs.  Lincoln — Lincoln  does  not  wear 
gloves — Mrs.  B  and  daughter — Concert  at  Washington— Lieu- 

tenant-General  Grant  and  staff— Grant  made  Lieutenant-General— 
Madam  Variani  sings  '  Star  Spangled  Banner' — Encored  by  gallery 
filled  with  soldiers — Parterre,  boxes,  and  orchestral  stalls  abstain 
from  demonstration — Sympathize  with  South — Leave  for  Harrisburg 
— Been  prevented  seven  or  eight  times  from  giving  concerts  there- 
Description  of  Harrisburg— Concert  at  Court-house— ^Complexion 
of  the  ladies — Pianists,  beware !— Charming  audience— Civilization 
outraged  by  the  gong — A  regiment  of  veterans — Adventure  of 
Mademoiselle  Vestvali,  '  the  superb'—"  He  never  plays  but  his 
own  music" — Like  the  white  man  in  the  midst  of  negproes — An 
afflicting  gift  —  What  Berlioz  said-*Criticism  —  Rachel  —  Mr.  De 
Cordova — Description  of  Lancaster— <^hubby-faced  children— Ger- 
man manners — Change  of  weather^^Concert  at  Harrisburg — Gov- 
ernor and  Secretary  of  State  present  —  Observation  —  Difference 
between  East  and  West — Pennsylvania  more  polite  than  some  of 
her  brilliant  sisters — Bethlehem — ^Villages,  towns  in  miniature- 
Magnificent  concert — ^Moravian  church  and  seminary — A  wager — A 
professor  of  music  I — But  little  swearing  and  drunkenness      •        .  242 


CHAPTER  XrV. 

Concert  at  Easton — Artists*  room — Ladies  and  gentlemen  of  Bethle- 
hem accompany  me — '  Cradle  Song'  sung  in  the  train — Patti  sing- 
ing high  tenor — Young  girls  dancing  to  late  hour — Leave  Bethle- 
hem—  Waving  of  handkerchiefs  from  seminary — Sad  sights  at 
station — Contingent  of  conscripts  —  Sad  partings — The  German 
conscript — "Dear  Catherine,  God,  God  bless  thee" — ^The  right  of 
these  fatherless  families  upon  us  all — ^Arrived  at  Baltimore — ^My 
good  friends  the  Curletts — Sunday  at  high  mass — *Agnus  Dei'  sung 

by  Mrs. ^An  old  maid  who  did  police  duty — The  mischievous 

one — Scapegraces — Fortress  Monroe — Oath  of  fidelity — How  taken 
— Shoemaker  stationer  and  music  seller — ^Mawkish  English  songs 
developed  by  the  war — ^Melodies  adapted  to  them  absurd — Norfolk 
ruined,  spared  the  *  Maiden's  Prayer' — ^A  confession — '  The  Battle 
Cry  of  Freedom'  ought  to  become  our  national  air — Sadly  heroic- 
Certain  Judgments,  how  formed — Slander  and  calumny — ^The  first 
falls,  the  latter  nursed  by  the  jealous — ^Mazzolini — Ovation  to  Brig- 
noli— Beethoven  as  symphonist,  as  composer  for  the  piano— Beet- 


xyi  CONTENTS. 

PAQX 

hoven  imperfectly  knew  the  piano— Raphael — ^A  most  singular,  in- 
comprehensible, and  most  disagreeable  thing— Captain  Clark — ^An 
absurd  accusation — The  colonel  with  a  voice  of  a  hippopotamus — 
The  Captain  Clarks  are  numerous — 0  the  sword!  —  Third  con- 
cert—  O  poor  muse  1 — Major  Darling  —  General  Butler  and  his 
family — Interior  of  Fortress  Monroe — Arrival  at  Baltimore — Concert 
of  amateurs — ^Reading,  Pennsylvania — Good  concert — Gas  goes  out 
— Shoemaker  of  the  town  plays  fantasy  on  the  flute  to  his  own  and 
the  public's  satisfaction — Knights  of  the  Golden  Circle — Leave  for 
Williamsport — Pennsylvania  the  richest  of  the  States — Feel  hungry 
— Behrens  and  Delmonico— Arrive  at  Williamsport — Despatch  to 
Strakosch — Public  will  be  cheated  this  evening      •        .        .        .  254 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Elmira — Oswego — Leave  fop  Scranton — Road  obstructed — ^When  Irish- 
men will  cease  drinking  whiskey — Mr.  Catlin,  Theophile  Gautier 
— Conversation   one   hundred  miles   apart — Arrive  at  Scranton — 
How  an  audience  are  kept  in  hopes — Concert  at  Binghamton — 
Small  but  charming  audience— O  pianists,  be  distrustful  of  ama- 
teurs— Newburg — Frightful  tragedy — Not  eighty  persons   at  con- 
cert— A  town  in  France  where  a  concert  never  succeeds — Enthu- 
siasm of  audience  in  ratio  of  the  receipts — Sympathy  of  amateurs 
— ^Anglo-Saxon    imagination  not  suflSciently   active— Leave  New- 
burg— A   Bloomer — Do  not  believe    in  women  who  assert  their 
rights — Sour  grapes — Liszt,  Chopin,  and  the  Germans — Chopin's 
mazourkas,  etc.,  are  epidemic  in  the  United  States — Schenectady — 
Detestable  concert — Troy — Popular  in  some  towns   not  at  all  in 
others — Concert  at  Brooklyn— Steinway  and  Chickering — Guelphs 
and  Ghibellines — Poughkeepsie — Charming  place— -Amusing  typo-    . 
graphical  errors — College  Hill — Intelligent  Yankee  turns  seminary 
into  college — His  success — Behrens's  appetite  and  puns — Rutland — 
Very  fine  concert — *  Last  Hope' — ^Vermont  marble  quarries — Splen- 
did country — Behrens's  unlucky  idea — ^Awakened  by  the  sheriff — 
Arrive  at  Burlington — Carlo  Patti  missing^Very  brilliant  concert 
— Artist  reflects  humour  of  his  audience^What  I  have  often  heard 
— ^Lake  Champlain — The  Bishop  of  Burlington  and  slavery — Bishop 
Potter   on   slavery — Poor   Bible — Children   and   the   Bible — What 
Puritanic  anatomy  only  recognizes — Plattsburg — We  are  engaged 
by  a  speculator — Excellent  hotel,  Fouguet — Travelling  in  winter  on 
the  ice — Magnificent  concert — Left  again — Perceive  we  are  approach- 
ing Canada — Canadian  French — Two  squaws — ^Montreal — Patti  and 
the   Secessionists — Nothing  more  odious  than  a  hybrid  patriot — 
**  The  Constitution  as  it  was" — **  Fools  that  you  are" — Those  who 
trade  in  a  thing,  generally  those  who  use  it  the  least — Behrens  ■ 
morose — ^A   mad   naturalist — His   theory — My  belief,  the   artist  a 
victim — How  ducks   and  geese  are  treated  in  Alsace — ^Artists  like 
the  ducks  and  geese — A  truce  to  poor  jokes — Behrens  and  the  in- 
fluence over  him  of  the  **  eternal  ham  and  eggs" — How  a  vagabond 
company  dines 264 


I 


'• 


CONTENTS.  xvii 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

PAUB 

Back  from  the  concert— Beautiful  effect  of  elegantly  dressed  ladies — 
English  officers  dressed  to  attract  attention — Know  nothing  more 
ill-bred  than  a  fashionable  Englishman,  unless  it  be  two  fashion- 
able Englishmen — Second  concert,  all  pieces  encored — '  Sunshine 
Patti' — What  a  beautiful  thing  medicine  is  I — Arrive  at  Prescott — 
Eight  years  ago — Madame  de  Lagrange — Invited  to  take  lunch — 
Unknown  name  —  Enchanted  house  —  Its  mistress — An  infantile 
impression — Granddaughter  of  Vespucciua — Stranded  on  the  banks 
of  tlie  St.  Lawrence — Not  treated  with  respect — Envious  mothers — 
Rubini — Madame  Merlin — What  has  become  of  her — Concert — Not  a 
large  audience  but  sympathetic — ^Arrested — Admirable  candour  of 
the  justice  of  the  peace—Justice  well  administered  I — Spleen — Em- 
bark from  Kingston  for  Cape  St.  Vincent — Strakosch  sea-sick — A 
capsized  schooner — Reminded  of  the  death  of  a  horse  in  a  bull  fight 
— Land  at  Cape  St.  Vincent — A  landlord's  welcome — Reach  Water- 
town — Give  concert  at  seven  o'clock  on  account  of  workingmen's 
ball — Tired  out — ^Utica — Beautiful  churches — Asylum  for  the  in- 
sane—  Head  physician  one  of  our  friends  —  Concert  and  warm 
audience — Sleep  at  hospital  by  invitation  of  the  doctor — Spiritual 
manifestations — The  haunted  house — The  two  young  men — Oneida 
community — Invited  to  visit  them — ^Fifteen  hundred  acres  of  straw- 
berries— Syracuse — Bad  hotel — Railroad  crossings — A  providence 
for  American  railways — Syracuse  always  gives  me  a  good  audience 
— Oswego  remarkable  for  its  situation — Always  play  with  pleasure 
at  Oswego — Do  not  conclude  the  receipts  good—One  thing  money 
cannot  rule — Geneva — Lakes  of  New  York — A  dyspeptic  English 
musician — Auburn — Charming  battalion  of  young  girls — *'I  have 
not  yet  heard  one  air" — The  general  who  recognizes  but  two  airs — 
A  relation  by  one  of  my  friends — *  Home,  Sweet  Home' — Auburn — 
**  Deafening  racket  he  makes  with  his  piano" — O  critics  ! — Catholic 
church  —  Execrable  music— -Rochester — Charming  town  —  Should 
like  to  transport  some  of  my  audiences  to  Europe — Feminine  type 
in  the  United  States  superior  to  that  of  Europe — Their  influence  on 
men-^Most  charming  types  of  women  at  Rochester — The  element  I 
fear  the  most  in  my  concerts — Joy  of  the  pianisticules — Mr.  X.,  a  sup- 
position—Always the  same  song — Those  who  have  nothing  to  lose 
are  fools — Monte  Mayer  and  Newton  a  fool— I  know  an  ass! — ^Vol- 
taire's apostrophe   .        •        •        .        • 277 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Leave  Rochester — ^Recommend  *  Congress  hall' — Arrive  at  Lockport— 
Pours  rain — Few  at  concert^Did  my  best — My  principle^Who 
not  a  true  artist — Inspiration  independent  of  will— Set  out  again  for 
Canada  —  That  cursed  gong — Custom  everything— Another  leaf 
torn  from  the  tree  of  my  illusions — Catholic  church — Contrast  be- 
tween the  sermon  and  the  facts — A  dreary  month  of  May — A  dia- 
tribe against  fashionable  music — Not  as  elevated  as  the  music  of 
the  Christy  minstrels— Neglect  of  our  agent — Insult— Conversation 

B* 


xviii  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

between  Strakosch  and  editor — Strakosch's  revenge— I  pity  future 
artists — Four  hundred  concerts  and  forty  thousand  miles  by  rail — 
Alexandre  Dumas's  son  and  the  wager — I  suffer  the  same — In  my 
heaven  no  pianos — My  notions  of  hell — If  Dante  had  known  of  the 
piano— When  retarded  on  the  road,  and  telegram  arrives  too  late, 
what  is  done — '  N.  B.' — Characteristic  trait  of  an  American  audi- 
ence^The  *  Cradle  Song'  for  two  pianos  !  ! — *  Marche  du  Prophete' 
with  flageolet  and  guitar  accompaniment — Probability — Error  in 
*  Home  Journal' — What  I  claim,  and  what  my  detractors  can  say — 
From  the  height  of  my  eighty  thousand  miles  I  defy  the  world — 
Anecdotes  of  Kalkbrenner  and  others  —  Stamaty  my  teacher  for 
seven  years — Cite  d' Orleans,  Paris — An  artists'  hive — Zimmerman 
— Formed  all  the  pianists  of  the  French  school — Refuses  me  admis- 
sion to  the  Conservatoire,  saying  that  America  was  the  country  of 
railroads,  but  not  of  musicians — Dantan  the  sculptor — GeorgeSand 

— Chopin  —  Count Orfila — Ridicules  Kalkbrenner — Orfila's 

anecdote  —  Distinguished  guests  !  —  Orfila — The  cholera — ^Rigorous 
diet — The  doctors  asses — The  proof — Apparent  death  of  Orfila — Since 
his  death  disgusted  with  life  I — Trousseau  devotes  his  attention  to 
a  pretty  American — Boyer — Ricord — Pasquier — Maissoneuve — Nela- 
ton- -Orfila's  delight  in  music 289 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Toronto,  Canada — Superb  concert — Conversation  in  an  undertone — 
Real  English  gentlemen — Shock  to  amour  propre — Polish  engineer — 
Admirable  order  and  neatness  of  English  soldiers — Saint  Catherine 
— "When  tickets  should  be  sold" — *  John  Marchmont's  Legacy' — 
English  romances  — Money — French  love — Which  I  prefer — ^Mr. 
GottschoffI — "Collector  of  Her  Majesty's  customs" — Two  pianos 
and  only  paid  duty  on  one ! — Official  dignity  offended — Am  deceived 
— Am  not  Orpheus — Fifty  persons  applaud  like  five  hundred— ^Ex- 
cellent hotel — Utilitarianism  and  practical  spirit  of  Americans — Au- 
dacious marvel  of  science — Strakosch's  wit — Who  pays  for  it — The 
terrible  editor— Candid  admission — Splendid  concert  at  Buffalo^ 
Canada — ^What  a  frightful  country — Essentially  Catholic — Irish  and 
French — What  French ! — Oblate  Fathers — Despair  for  humanity — 
Quebec — *Les  Sagneurs* — Population  of  Lower  Canada — Its  cha- 
racter— ^The  sermon  at  high  mass — ^What  is  forbidden — The  col- 
lege students — The  Pope  a  martyr — Garibaldi  a  highway  robber^ 
Play,  whistle,  and  sing  *  Dixie' — French  pronunciation — Names  in 
Lower  Canada — Again  travelling,  after  long  repose — The  kind  of 
repose — Charity  concerts  and  lady  patronesses — Saratoga — *The 
Associated  Company  of  Artists,'  Testa  and  wife — Stefani,  Amodio, 
Madame  Lorini,  Maestro  Behrens,  Devivo-^*Lucrezia,'  *The  Puri- 
tans,' and  *Trovatore'  all  played  in  two  and  a  half  hours  for  fifty 
cents — *  Lucrezia'  at  Bellevue  (Canada) — Ridiculous  scenes — Suc- 
ess  of  the  English  corporal,  notwithstanding  a  note  too  high — Es- 
prit de  corps — Poor  Behrens — Providence  going  behindhand — Bos- 
ton, great  success — ^Morelli — Axiom  of  the  Verdistas — Hartford- 
Faces  to  make  false  notes — L Adieu,  Boston! — What  your 

enemies  say — What  I  say — Longfellow — Mr.  D. — No  traditions  in 


f 

I 


CONTENTS.  xix 

PAOS 

America — Who  more  or  less  like — Ticknor  &  Fields,  Hawthorne, 
Hunt,  Holmes,  Whittier — Fields  and  the  intelligent  aristocracy  of 
Boston — Fields's  generous  hospitality — Portrait  of  Longfellow  and 
wife — Portrait  of  Tennyson— Compared  with  Longfellow's — Fields 's 
collection  of  autographs— Dickens's  manuscript — What  like— Uow 
perfection  and  simplicity  aimed  at — What  Boston  possesses  and 
New  York  does  not — Macenic  New  York— Opera  in  New  York — 
How  killed — Harrisburg— Charming  audience — Pittsburg — Brilliant 
concitjrt— **  Poor  little  thing  r» 300 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Harrisburg  to  Pittsburg  by  night — Among  soldiers— Deficiencies  in 
our  civilization — Aristocratic  privileges  in  favour  of  the  rich,  of  all 
aristocracies  the  most  absurd— What  I  demand—*  Ladies'  cars' — 
TroUope — Insolence  of  employes— Conductors  in  the  West — ^Wouldit 
not  be  better  to  correct  ourselves  f — Pittsburg  the  Birmingham  of  the 
United  States — Petroleum  wells — The  young  Englishman — ^The  Ger- 
man tailor — Great  gains — Mr.  M.,  music  publisher — Cleveland 
(Ohio) — Always  found  it  dull— Cleveland  devoted  to  bad  hotels- 
Bill  of  fare  ostentatious,  food  not  eatable — Chicago— Has  material 
civilization  of  New  York — Splendid  concert — Astonished  at  develop- 
ment of  musical  taste  in  United  States — Before  me  no  piano  con- 
certs, except  in  peculiar  cases^American  taste  becoming  purer— 
The  playing  of  a  generation  of  young  girls — Cleveland  ought  to 
have  a  better  hotel— Aptitude  of  Americans  for  commerce  marvel- 
lous— What  Benvenuto  Cellini,  if  born  in  the  United  States,  would 
not  have  done^Lamartine  poor — United  States  only  country  where 
a  sort'  of  public  recognition  given  to  a  rich  man— 'Understanding 
civilization  after  the  Chinese  manner — Sandusky — Concert  quite 
good — Tickets  for  *  the  show'  and  *  panorama !' — Johnson's  Island^ 
Twenty-five  hundred  Southern  prisoners  confined  there — Swiss  in 
train  from  Clyde — His  grape  vines  and  wine — Grant  born  at  San- 
dusky— The  old  man— A  poor  farmer  talks  poetry — Remarkable 
condition  of  things  in  the  United  States — He  is  well  versed  in  litera- 
ture of  the  Bible — Would  have  delighted  M.  de  Lamartine— Set  out 
for  Toledo— Great  contrast  between  the  West  and  the  East — Great 
contempt  for  fashion  and  neatness — Chicago  always  the  city  of  the 
West — Moore  and  Smith's  new  hall  inaugurated — Hall  crammed,  au- 
dience cold — *Tremont  House' — Second  concert  large,  brilliant,  and 
enthusiastic — The  farmer  who  owns  seventy-three  thousand  acres  of 
arable  land — Sold  in  one  lot  twenty  thousand  head  of  cattle — Talk 
of  gigantic  canal — New  Academy  of  Music  being  built  by  Crosby — 
Notice  to  artists  without  engagements — Attacked  for  playing  Chick- 
ering's  pianos — Honest  editor  not  au  fait  in  matter  of  concerts — 
^Thalberg  and  Erard's  pianos — Chopin  and  Pleyel's  —  Liszt  and 
*Erard's — Reasons  why — Why  I  like  Chickering's — Sandusky — Ho- 
tel and  bill  of  fare — Detroit — Population — Frightful  accent — Dan- 
gerous neighlK)urhood — En  route  for  Peoria — ^The  Frenchman  and 
his  monkey — Idaho— Fighting  with  the  Indians — Very  ugly  place — 
The  platform  gives  a  vertigo— Emigration  to  the  West — Where  go- 
ing-Jciiicinnati — Burnet  House,  dirty  and  dear — Physiognomy  of 
Western  people — Their  free  and  easy  behaviour      ....  312 


XX  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

PAGE 

Kreutzer  sonata  of  Beethoven — Newspaper  criticism — ^Mozart  Hall — 
Experience  of  the  Swedish  doctor — Excessive  cold — *  Mont  Blanc' 
and  *  Young  Men's  Association'  at  Detroit — St.  Louis — Detention  on 
railroad — Common  roads — The  true  cause — Cold  intense — The  *  Lin- 
dell  House' — Should  like  it  better  if — ^Morelli  and  I  search  for  a 
restaurant — ^The  artist's  intention — Inspired  artist  like  a  key-hoard 
— Springfield,  Hlinois — ^^Audience  listen,  but  too  late ! — Hypocrisy 
and  vanity !-— Sermon  at  St.  Louis — Bloomington  (Illinois) — *'Do 
you  want  the  portrait  of  Chuckle  and  his  wife  ?" — Two  poor  nuns — 
All  chambers  taken  I — Lie  down  on  the  floor— Joliet,  last  year  the- 
atre of  a  scandalous  action — What  a  tour  in  the  West  requires — Fair 
concert  at  Joliet-^Curious  incident — Dohler  relates  his  interviews 
— Set  out  again — The  placard,  caution  I — Christy  Minstrels'  Adver- 
tisement— The  dead  horse  covered  with  placards — ^American  lures 
— ^Kalamazoo  (Michigan) — Excellent  hotel — Charming  concert — Re- 
spectable audience— Leave  for  Ann  Arbor — State  University — The 
famous  singer,  Goodstock  1 — London,  Canada — Concert — Canadian 
receipts — The  1st  of  January — Mr.  Edmund  Harris  and  family — 
Praise  of  Morelli — ^The  telegraphic  dispatch — The  knight  of  the  ra- 
zor^— Leave  for  New  York  by  first  train — Passports  required — Har- 
risburg — Concert  in  court-room — Siberian  cold — Artists'  room — 
Dayton  (Ohio) — Excellent  audience — Fine  example  of  cold  on  hu- 
man nature— The  letter  at  Bethlehem — The  concert  at  Wilmington, 
Delaware — ^Muzio  visits  the  music  store^-My  violin — Headache— 
The  letter  from  the  ladies — Want  of  delicacy — Two  stories — The 
Gascon — The  paralytic  lady  and  the  Englishman    •         •        •         ,  323 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Toledo— Oliver  House,  one  of  best  in  the  United  States — ^New  York — 
Heard  Miss  Kellogg  for  first  time — Charming  artist — A  matter  of 
pride — Powers,  Palmers,  Miss  Stebbins,  Church,  Bierstadt,  etc. — 
Poe's  tales — Cooper — Irving — That  clique  of  imbeciles — What  they 
say — Raphael  and  Fornarina — Byron — Let  me  be  understood — Rem- 
brandt— ^Victor  Hugo — Dickens — Works  of  the  artist  not  responsible 
for  his  private  life — New  York  Philharmonic— Poor  Poe — The  mute 
instruments — Dunkirk — Conversation  between  two  ladies — Another 
amusing  thing  at  St.  Louis— O  truth,  why  art  thou  not  petro- 
leum ! — Superb  concert  at  Rochester — Batavia — Erie — Struck  with 
a  show  ball — No  enthusiasm,  reason  why — Erie  to  Lockport,  off  the 
rails — Invariable  phrase  of  the  conductor — Lockport  faithful  to  its 

tradition — Utica,  as  always — Visited  all  my  good  friends — S 

Dr.  K Visited   insane  asylum — Aunt   Libbey — Her   dress — 

The  Queen  of  England  enchanted  to  visit  her — Playing  and  sing- 
ing in  the  Asylum — Aunt  Libby  plays — L 's  consternation — The 

lady  betrothed  to  Gen.  Washington,  and  bequeathed  by  him  to  all 
the  presidents  of  the  United  States — Buffalo— Charming  audience- 
Syracuse  cold — What  the  newspaper  says — What  warms  up  an  audi- 
ence— Commencement  of  concert  like  first  stage  of  a  grand  dinner— 


CONTENTS.  xxi 

PAOI 

Audience  and  artist — ^What  features !— My  Sappho— What  a  fall— 
Leave  for  California  with  Muzio  and  wife — '*  I  will  make  a  trip  to 
Soath  America"— When  are  you  going  ?— Impressario  and  the  pla- 
cards— Oh !  ho  1  I  thought  you  had  left — Disappointed  fellow  artista 
—Smith,  Jenny  Lind's  agent— The  predestined  ono*-Farewell  con- 
certs at  New  York — Embark  on  third  April  on  lioard  of  Ariel- 
Parting — Sea  sickness— four  hundred  passengers- Most  heteroge- 
neous assemblage — Singers  and  actors  and  United  States  marshal- 
Judge — Lawyers — Senators  and  doctors— Ministers,  who  preach 
officially  and  officiously— Flirtation— Two  brides— Life  on  board- 
Bill  of  fare 336 


CHAPTER  XXIL 

Land  in  sight — Aspinwall — Negro  porters — Negress  fruit  sellers- 
Howard  hotel  and  the  piano — Train  leaves— The  road— Farmers* 
huts — Arrive  at  Panama — Laziness  of  inhabitants — Houses  and 
cathedral,  all  dilapidated — ^An  adroit  prestidigitateur — Apathy, 
laziness,  and  filth  everywhere — Steamer  Constitution — Heat  exces- 
sive— Isle  of  Pearls^ — Pearl  fishing  dangerous— Not  slept  for  three 
days  —  the  *  squatters'  worse  than  mosquitoes  —  *  B  flats'  —The 
steward — Resembles  hotel  at  St.  Louis— Dull  monotony  on  ship 
board — Heat  like  that  of  a  lead  foundry — Air,  air,  I  suffocate  !— 
Episcopal  service^New  bride  appears  oftenest  where  husband  is  not 
— Passengers  find  their  level — Singers  quarrel— Harmony  among 
musicians  impossible— One  hour  and  a  half  at  table — The  dinner— 
Between  the  courses  I  go  on  deck — Geographical  dictionary  taken 
for  a  Bible— Honeymoon  and  threats  of  a  revolver — Acapulco, 
Mexico— Take  in  coal  here — Indians  and  canoes — Bay  infested  by 
sharks — The  little  Indian  girl — Bad  luck  to  me — Hermoso  cavallero 
looks  like  a  pin-cushion— Houses,  streets,  and  cathedral — The 
*  Padre' — The  paper  above  the  image  of  a  saint — Ex-votos — Immo- 
bility everywhere — ^The  guard  house — Questions — Don  Diego  Alva- 
rez— Louisiana  Hotel  and  ite  landlord — But  one  nation,  humanity, 
but  one  country,  the  globe — The  landlord,  an  old  Frenchman — ^Re- 
counts all  his  affairs — What  he  said  of  the  little  prodigy  Gottschalk 
— Recommends-  his  tavern — The  thin  waiter— Ah  I  Paris,  sir — Dis- 
covery, the  landlord's  wife — The  son  of  Don  Juan  Alvarez,  his  wife 
and  daughter — How  dressed — Steamer  in  sight — The  *  Golden  City' 
— **Lee  has  surrendered" — Lincoln  has  been  assassinated — Wilkes 
Booth — Affecting  sight  on  board  the  Constitution — Women  those 
who  show  the  least  regrets — The  judge  weeps  as  if  he  had  lost  a 
father — All  the  men  crushed,  overwhelmed — Women's  irrational 
impulses — Men  and  women  compared — ^The  female  secessionist — 
The  meeting  on  board — Presided  over  by  Judge  Field  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  the  United  States — An  apostrophe  on  Lincoln — Hymn 
of  the  Republic  by  the  Italian  singers — I  play  my  piece  *  Union' — 
Fog — Singular  impatience  of  passengers 349 


xxii  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXIIL 

Shall  be  at  San  Francisco  to-day — Seal  Rock — The  *Cliflf  House' — 
Fort  *Alcatraz' — The  *  Golden  Gate' — Bay  of  San  Francisco — 
Transcends  the  bays  of  Naples  and  Constantinople — Arrival — Re- 
cognition of  friends — Man  overboard — ^The  magic  word,  *  Home' — 
*'  Is  Gottschalk  on  board  ?" — People  disappointed  at  my  appearance 
— Alcibiades,  Socrates,  Phryne— -Crowds  have  only  instinct — ^King 
Louis  Philippe  and  Louis  Napoleon — How  the  i)opularity  of  Louis 
Napoleon  began — Mr.  Badger,  Chickering's  agent — Cosmopolitan 
Hotel — The  dust  in  San  Francisco — The  *  Cosmopolitan'  a  magni- 
ficent edifice — Chickering  piano  in  ladies'  parlour — The  waiters — 
The  bill  of  fare— Not  easily  caught — Brillat  Savarin — Cookery, 
music,  and  painting  in  the  United  Stales— The  Indian  and  piano 

— ^Mr.  D ,  of  Boston — Do  you  understand  my  comparison  ? — The 

best  singer  in  the  world,  now  known! — The  Indian,  always  the 
Indian-r-Description  of  San  Francisco — Theatres,  etc. — Maguire— 
Zoyara,  the  hermaphrodite^Caf(§s  more  magnificent  than  those  of 
New  York — California  wine — Markets  of  San  Francisco — Fruits — 
Mines  of  copper,  silver,  and  gold  inexhaustibler— Opals — Signs  of 
petroleum— Mining  victims — Expenses  and  never-ending  robberies 
beggar  those  who  undertake  mining — Rate  of  interest  in  California 
— Admiral  Dupont  and  his  lawsuit — Mr.  Lick — Great  advance  in 
real  estate — Messrs.  Badger  and  Linderberger — Is  music  much  cul- 
tivated ? — Concerts  at  San  Francisco  never  succeeded — Ole  Bull  and 
Strakosch — Paul  Julien — Circus  flourishes — Miss  Ada  Menken — 
The  Chinese,  Sam  Kee,  druggist — My  introduction  to  him,  his  sus- 
picions— The  rich  Chinese  and  his  daughter — Attempt  to  carry  her 
off — Besiegers  put  to  flight — She  is  sent  back  to  China    .         .         .  362 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Introduced  to  M.  de  Cazotte,  French  consul — Unfortunate  creatures 
— One  of  the  Croesuses  of  San  Francisco — French  commercial  houses 
— Small  number  of  pretty  women — Maguire 's  Opera — Morelli — Do 
not  admire  Verdi  to  excess — First  representation  of  '  Ernani'  at 
Paris — Madame  Mennechet  de  Barival — To  criticise  an  opera  and  to 
compose  one,  two  different  things — Advice  to  pianisticules — Want- 
ing a  pianist — *  Tannhauser'  arranged  by  myself  for  fourteen  pianos 
— Must  never  put  off  a  concert — God  protect  you,  0  artists  1  from 
the  fathers  of  amateurs,  from  the  sons  themselves,  and  from  the 
fathers  of  female  singers — The  rehearsal,  found  out  what  I  had  to 
rely  on — Horrible  position — Serious  thought  of  putting  off  the  con- 
cert— My  tuner's  stratagem — My  orders — Great  success — My  ama- 
teur was  superb  !  his  friends  in  raptures — Encore,  encore — Disobeys 
my  orders  and  finds  his  piano  mute — His  countenance — Secret  at  last 
discovered  or  supposed  to  have  been — Mass  at  French  church — The 
priest  from  Auvergne — A  sermon  which  would  have  been  grotesque 
elsewhere — Unworthy  of  the  Catholic  religion — ^Virginia  City , Nevada 
territory — The  hotel  clerk  impudently  pompous — The  French  restau- 
rant-keeper—Ugly  town— Most  inhospitable  and  saddest  I  have  ever 


CONTEXTS.  xxiii 

PAOI 

seen — Family  from  New  Orleans  and  jonng  Lonisianians — Sunday 
—Almost  inundated  in  my  room— The  firemen — **  How  do  you  find 
our  place  ?''-— Ill  for  three  days — French  infidels  and  the  small  vir- 
tues— Charity,  generosity,  and  kindnerts-— Leave  for  Day*on  in  the 
stage — ^What  took  place  on  the  road— Arrive  at  Dayton— The  hall, 
how  lighted^-Our  audience — California  miners — Attention,  decent 
and  tranquil^-Have  rarely  seen  a  more  peaceful  population-~My 
programme  simple-— Piano,  most  difficult  to  render  comprehensive 
— My  ride  back  splendid— The  Indian  girl  and  her  lover— fciad  fate.  375 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Leave  Virginia  City — ^Rudeness  at  stage  office — Amiable  people  1— The 
landscape — O  Christianity  I — The  lady  at  the  back  complaius^- 
*  Dutch  Flat'  a  pretty  village — Concert — Audience  very  quiet — 
'Taken  in!' — Effect  of  certain  passages — ^What  I  perceive  here- 
Artistic  ignorance,  an  example  of  it — Sick  for  three  days — Nowhere 
in  Europe  could  I  be  so  isolated  as  here — ^What  I  have  done — ^The 
country  of  money  not  the  one  for  artist — From  *  Dutch  Flat*  to 
Nevada  City — Adieu  to  my  spleen — *  Grass  Valley*  charming— Ne- 
vada City — ^Fine  spacious  hotels — Concert  at  Temperance  Hall — The 
audience — Have  already  given  twelve  concerts — Fatigue  and  danger 
of  these  travels — California  a  humbug  I — The  thousand  and  one 
things  wanting — Leave  on  steamer  Julia  for  Stockton — WeWr  Hotel 
— Stockton  resembles  Sacramento  on  a  small  scale— Concert  small- 
Judge  Underbill — Pastor  Happersett — Newspaper  concludes  that 
**  I  do  not  know  how  to  play  the  piano'* — Insane  hospital— The 
German  baron — Colfax — *  Who  then  is  this  Goldax  ?' — Presented 
on  my  fdte  day  with  a  splendid  medal — Its  description,  and  all  the 
details  of  the  presentation  —  Its  cost — On  board  the  Colorado — 
Coast  of  Costa  Rica — Purgatory— What  not  I — Left  San  Francisco  on 
the  18th — Heat  suffocating — ^Magnificent  moonlight  scene — The  pas- 
sengers— King  Eamehameha  V.  and  the  Sandwich  Islands — ^Men- 
doza — Captain  Cook — ^Kanak  religion  —  Polygamy — Sisters  and 
daughters  wives — Queen  Kalama — -Only  the  mother  who  ennobles 
—Honolulu — ^Victoria,  sister  of  present  king — Uniform  of  the  •king 
— *  Manzanillo,'  a  Mexican  town — Piroques  and  young  Mexicans — 
— A  monstrous  tortoise— An  imperial  soldier— Acapulco — Only  a 
small  borough — The  French  returned  here— Mexican  soldiers — The 
general ! — What  town  depopulated 388 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Panama— Island  of  Tobago — ^A  boat  comes  for  us — Negro  porters — Suc- 
ceed in  collecting  my  trunks — ^What  is  seen  on  the  road — ^The  old 
towUi — Old  Jesuit  college — Ruins,  ruins — ^The  cathedral — ^The  streets 
— Aspinwall  Hotel — Promenade  on  the  ramparts — Tlie  Invincibles 
and  their  uniform — A  concert  by  subscription — Cottage  piano,  a 
hybrid — The  climate— The  president  of  the  State — Hix  mother  an 
old  negress — His  father,  bishop  of  Panama — A  pretty  girl,  daughter 

of  the  priest — The  French  consul,  Mr.  De  Y -Ceramic  art  of 

the  Indians  from  Chiriqui— Golden  ornaments  from  Chiriqui — The 


Xxiv  CONTENTS. 

PAOB 

happy  idea  of  the  agent — Richness  of  excavations  at  Chiriqui— Hor- 
rible taste  of  the  Spanish  religion — The  picture  representing  purga-  , 
tory  (?) — Superstitious  farmers — How  to  bless  the  crops! — The 
population — Uncivilized  and  ignorant — Dread  of  foreigners — English 
steamer — Voyage  to  Lima — Holy  cargo— The  little  Indian  girl  with 
large  black  eyes— Sour  grapes — Good  sisters  sing  canticles — Boat 
rocks  singularly — Canticles  interrupted — Effect  on  the  Polish  and 
Peruvian  priests — ^The  little  Italian  Lazarist — What  sea-sickness  is 
— Procession  at  Guatemala  during  Holy  Week — Horrible  part  of  it— 
Payta — Extraordinary  aridity — Misery  and  filth — The  ship's  toilet 
— Effect  of  arrival  on  passengers — Little  priest  becomes  playful— 
M.  Fournier's  reply  to  the  abb6^In  harbour,  Callao,  no  wharf — The 
Peruvian  monitor— Frigate  *La  Numancla' — Peruvian  soldiers — The 
sisters  delighted — Appearance  of  Callao— Train  about  to  start— ^The 
counterfeit  coin — Waiting  for  gratuity — ^First,  second,  and  third 
class  cars — Everything  finished  here — Lima— Description  of  Lima^ 
Female  devotees — Organ  played  out  of  tune— Cathedral — The  pic- 
ture of  Murillo — What  has  become  of  it  ? — Lima  founded  by  Pizarro, 
1535 — ^The  old  manuscript — Queen  Madam  Jane  to  Marquis  Francis 
Pizarro 401 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Streets  of  Lima,  how  paved — ^Filth  and  winged  scavengers — Sugges- 
tion to  the  New  York  authorities — Houses  and  architecture^Hotels 
full — Refugees — Unfortunate  moment  for  concerts — ^Revolution — 
Rebels  and  government — Civil  war  normal  state  of  Peru— What  I 
understand  about  political  affairs — The  outs  against  the  ins — Cor- 
ruption everywhere — Everybody  lives  on  the  government — The 
government  robs  her  creditors — How  the  military  rob  the  treasury 
— How  the  army  is  recruited — Arrogance  of  the  military — llow  they 
pay  their  debts — What  shall  I  say  of  Bolivia  ? — Gauge  of  war  be- 
tween Bolivia  and  Peru — President  Mezarijo  a  ferocious  beast — Peru 
and  public  schools — **God  protect  us  from  religious  liberty!" 
—When  they  construct  railroads — Hate  innovation,  and  go  back- 
ward-;-Hatred  for  foreigners — What  I  said — Peruvian  character — 
The  government  a  military  oligarchy — Unbridled  corruption- 
Examination  of  Spanish  American  governments — The  people  who 
cry  out  against  monarchy ! — What  they  submit  to— Battle  of  Lima 
— My  friend  Dupeyron — '  Benediction  des  Poignards' — Letter  to 
Mr.  Dupeyron — Awakened  by  noise  of  firing — The  fighting — Bat- 
tery of  artillery  under  our  windows — What  I  see  from  behind  the 
blinds — A  ball  lodged  in  the  balcony — Horrible  tumult — Battle  con- 
tinues— Indian  musicians  and  soldiers — 0  Christian  charitv  ! — 
Heap  of  slain — ^The  little  gamin — The  wounded — The  Parisian  joker 
—His  care  for  the  wounded — Dupeyron  and  the  women  everywhere 
— Charity,  is  she  not  feminine  ?-r— Th«  dying  Indian  and  the  monk — 
Palace  on  fire — Sacking  commenced — Those  who  surrendered  assas- 
sinated— The  revolutionary  troops — Screams  of  the  wounded — 
Whole  army  of  Canzeco  defiles — Description  of  them— No  one  found 
willing  to  assist  the  wounded — What  do  you  teach  in  your  con- 
vents ? — French  miscreants  (!)  assist  with  devotion-— Those  nice  fel- 
lows who  take  the  communion         •«•••••  413 


CONTENTS.  XXV 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

PAQB 

Escape  of  Gomez  Sanchez — Continue  to  bring  in  the  woiind(»d — Lima 
lady  attends  the  sick — The  priest  missing — '*  Ah  !  little  mother,  am 
I  dying?" — Fort  of  Santa  Catalina  not  surrendered — Narrow  escape 
of  my  piano — A  charming  young  girl  killed — The  Mouteneros — 
Another  battle  probable — Fried  potatoes  of  the  '  Barriere  de  Clichy' — 
Things  taking  an  alarming  turn — The  fort  still  hoMs  out — The  dead 
and  wounded — Sad  effects  of  civil  war — Santa  Catalina  surrendered 
— What  will  become  of  us  ? — Details  of  Hight  of  Oomez  Sanchez — 
Fears  realized  as  to  ray  concerts — Garden  of  Otaiza — The  Peruvian 
Mabille — How  the  difficulty  was  overcome — Composition  on  *  Le  Ballo 
in  Maschera' — Eve  of  war  with  Spain — My  concerts  finished — My 
success — The  superb  decoration  presented  to  me — St'a  baths  at  Cho- 
rillos — Civil  war  in  Spain — Rayrnondi,  an  Italian  savant — The  coca 
and  its  marvellous  effects — How  used — Embark  for  Islay,  port  of 
Arequipa — The  desert  and  the  Tambos — Arequipenos — Their  in- 
domitable character — City  of  Arequipa — Islay  to  Arequipa  a  her- 
culean journey — The  landing  at  Islay — Am  known — The  young 
children  and  Indian  girl  bathing — Arica — La  Paz — Tacna — Trying 
to  persuade  me  to  go  to  Bolivia—One  hundred  and  eighty  leagues 
on  mules,  and  no  hotels — No  danger — Convoys  of  silver — Honesty 
of  the  Indians — ^Troop  of  Spanish  actors  at  Arica — Singularly  tempted 
— Arica,  its  fortifications  and  church — A  decree  of  Prados — The  com- 
mandant-general— His  campaigns  in  the  interior — Arrival  of  Indians 
from  Bolivia — The  cholo  of  Peru — Soiree  at  X— 's — Society  at 
Tacna — The  only  aristocracy  among  parvenues  and  republicans, 
that  of  wealth — What  I  find  ridiculous — Pretty  women  and  dancing 
— The  mecapaquend,  how  danced — The  wife  of  X  .         .         .  429 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

Descendants  of  the  Incas — Prejudice  against  the  Indians — The  wife 
of  X.,  a  descendant  from  the  Cacique  Huascar — Her  marvellous 
beauty  when  young — Bolivar — Compared  with  Washington — His 
character — His  stay  at  Tacna — *  The  pearl  of  Tacna'  and  Bolivar 
— The  romance — A  tragical  history — Pass  the  evening  with  a  Swiss 
merchant — Charming  evening — Invited  to  eat  game  taken  on  the 
Tacora — Second  concert  at  Tacna — The  stolen  horse  and  the  In- 
dians of  Bolivia — Tricks  of  robbers — False  singing  of  the  old  Span- 
ish priest — The  accompaniment — The  playing  of  the  old  Indian — 
No  regard  to  the  key  in  which  the  priest  was  singing — Plans 
changed  by  bombardment  of  Valparaiso — Bolivia  open  before  me — 
Three  hundred  miles  in  the  interior — Desert  and  Andes — What 
travellers  over  the  Andes  exposed  to  I — Caravan  of  French  travellers 
—Crimes  of  Bolivia — An  invitation — ^^Character  of  the  Indians — The 
port  of  Arica  and  the  caravans — The  President  of  Bolivia,  Senor 
General  Melgarejo^His  character — A  sort  of  tiger — Curious  cus- 
toms of  the  Indians  of  Tacna — Indian  bride  complains  that  her  hus- 
band did  not  whip  her  ! — Their  humility  and  submission — The 
market  and  church — Preparing  for   Easter  Sunday — *Tristos,'  a 

C 


xxvi  CONTENTS. 

PAQB 

musical  instrument — Tradition  respecting  its  invention — Last  con- 
cert at  Valparaiso— Presentation  by  municipal  council  with  golden 
crown  and  gold  medal — Copiapo — The  large,  lean,  shabby  man — 
Dined  with  him  at  the  French  consul's — His  death  and  burial — 
His  history — ^Occupied  distinguished  rank  in  the  French  army — Our 
difficulties  at  the  funeral — The  corpse  deposited — The  custom    •     .  444 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

The  desert  of  Atacama — Silver  mine  of  *  Buena  Esperanza' — Invited 
by  the  manager  to  visit  the  mine — The  distance  from  Copiapo — De- 
cided to  go — La  Marca,  the    banker,  and  the  stolen  pistol — The 
journey — *  Pueblo  de   Indies* — Indians   and  cigarettes — The    two 
horsemen — Our  fears — Our    first  relay  *Chulo' — The  rediscovered 
mine  and  the  murder — The  mine  again  lost — Character  of  the  road 
— The  hovel  of  Chulo — ^The    chamber  reserved  for  us — Our  host — 
Beefsteak,    fresh    eggs,    and     goats'    milk — The    kitchen — Supper 
served   up — Billet's   coflfee — Details    of   manners — The   invariable 
routine  —  Leave   Copiapo   and    Valparaiso  —  Great  animation   on 
board — Bride   and   groom — Disap  pearance  and  torture — Straits  of 
Magellan — The  Fuegians — Military    penal  colony  of  Chili,  Punta 
Arena — Mr.  Riobo,  the  governor — The  Franciscan  and  the  English- 
man— English   corvette   Spiteful — The   officers  and  the  Indians — 
Doctor  Phillipi  killed  and    eaten — Palace  of  the  government — In- 
habitants   of    Punta   Arenas — The     leopards — The    guanaco — The 
governor's  escape — Coal   and    auriferous  quartz — A  family  of  Pata- 
gonians — ^Their    appearance — Kanucha — The   -most   beautiful   girl 
turns  out  a  handsome  boy — A    second   squad — Queen  Nata — Her 
baby — Montevideo— Mr.  D'Hote  and  the  Parisian  bouffes — Debut  at 
Argentine  theatre  in  the  bavards  of  Offenbach — Cause  of  non-suc- 
cess I — The  cholera — Political  events — The  son  of  Dictator  Flores  of 
Montevideo — Fortunato  Flores — The  old  bogy  of  Montevideo — An 
assassin  and  bandit — Salutary  fear  of  the  United  States — I  make  a 
conquest  of  him — He  canes   the  minister  of  foreign  affairs — Exiled 
for  two  years — Remains  in    Europe  seven  days — Consternation  at 
his  return — Takes  the  grade  of  colonel — The  supper — His  brothers 
— Horrible  conduct — Rises    against  his  father — Old  Flores  flies — 
Action  of  the  foreigners — The  hostage — Father  Flores  reinstated — 
The  terms 466 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Fortunato  assassinates  a  Frenchman  and  re-embarks — Leaves  for 
Europe — Ignominious  fall  of  Prado,  dictator  of  Peru — He  is  a 
wretch — I  had  to  suffer  from  him — The  only  safeguard  of  citizens 
of  the  United  States — Revolution  in  Bolivia — No  one  willing  to 
bury  the  dead  priest — The  gaucho,  lasso,  and  dead  priest — The 
clergy  rapacious,  cowardly,  etc. — Sisters  of  Charity  alone  devoted 
— Cassocked  bandits  of  South  America — They  raise  the  price  of 
sepulture — Order  of  the  municipality — The  people  of  the  Argentine 


CONTENTS.  xxvii 

PAOK 

republic  the  sink — The  public  treasury  a  milch-cow — Spanish- 
American  republics — What ! — Buenos  Ayres — The  saddest  country 
in  the  world — Montevideo — Writing  my  grand  *Tarantelle*  — 
Count  Gioanninni  to  present  it  to  the  princess — Ditson,  and  '  Seven 
Octaves' — Note 471 


Conclusion 477 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


(xxix) 


PREFACE  TO  THE  BIOGRAPHY. 


In  the  accompanying  biographical  sketch  of  Louis  Moreau 
GoTTSCHALK,  the  dcsire  has  been  to  present  a  short  history  of 
his  ancestry,  and  of  his  early  years,  derived  from  documents  in 
possession  of  his  family,  and  from  the  immediate  knowledge  of 
his  brother  and  sisters.  As  regards  his  talents  and  genius,  they 
have  preferred  to  refer  to  the  criticisms  of  well-known  artists  and 
writers,  a  few  of  which  have  been  inserted.  This  sketch,  with 
his  "  Notes,"  and  his  musical  compositions,  they  believe,  will 
enable  every  one  to  form  a  just  idea  of  Gottschalk,  as  an  artist, 
composer,  scholar,  and  man. 

R.  E.  P. 


(  yxxi ) 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


CHAPTER  T. 


Louis  Moreau  Gottschalk,  the  Pianist  and  Comjwser, 
and  the  only  American  master  of  the  modem  school  of 
music,  was  a  native  of  New  Orleans  in  the  State  of  Louisi- 
ana, in  the  United  States  of  America.  His  father  was  an 
Englishman,  born  in  London ;  his  mother  a  Creole,  bom  in 
New  Orleans.  It  is  probable,  if  not  certain,  that  what  ren- 
dered Gottschalk  so  attractive  was  due  to  the  two  natures 
which  he  thus  inherited,  for  he  possessed  the  warmth  of 
heart  which  characterizes  the  Creole,  and  the  dignity  of 
maimer  so  peculiar  to  the  English.  Ilis  ancestors  on  his 
mother's  side,  all  of  noble  Fi'cnch  origin,  were  residents 
of  the  island  of  St.  Domingo.  His  great-grandfather, 
Antoine  de  Brusle,  Chevalier  of  the  royal  and  military 
Order  of  St.  Louis,  was  commandant  or  governor  of  the 
quarter  of  the  Grande  Riviere,  parish  of  St.  Rose,  in  the 
northern  part  of  the  island.  His  son,  Theodat  Camille  de 
Brusle,  when  the  British  took  possession  of  St.  Domingo, 
received  a  commission  in  the  British  West  India  Army  of 
George  III.  as  ensign,  and  afterwards  as  captain  of  the 
Chasseurs  of  St.  George,  in  the  regiment  of  Colonel  the 
Baron  de  Montalembert,  raised  in  St.  Domingo  for  the 
defence  of  the  island.  In  the  terrible  insurrection  and 
massacre  which  took  place  after  the  British  abandoned  the 
island.  Commandant  de  Brusle  was  killefl,  and  Captain  de 
Brusle  escaped  with  others  to  various  West  India  islands, 
and  to  Louisiana,  then  in  possession  of  the  French  Govern- 
ment. On  the  16th  of  January,  1800,  Captain  de  Brusle, 
who  had  fled  to  Jamaica,  entered  into  a  contract  of  mar- 
riage with  Miss  Marie  Josephine  Alix  Deynaut,  who  had 
3  (25) 


26  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

likewise  escaped  with  her  father,  Lieutenant  Louis  Chris- 
tophe  Deynaut,  and  her  mother,  Lady  Marie  Therese 
Vallade,  from  the  island.  After  the  marriage  of  Captain 
de  Brusle  he  emigrated  with  his  wife  and  her  father's 
family  to  New  Orleans.  Several  children  were  the  fruit  of 
this  marriage,  amonff  whom  was  Miss  Aiiiife  de  Brusle, 
remarkable  for  her  heauty,  her  wit,  and  musical  genius. 
Miss  de  Brusle  at  the  age  of  fifteen  was  married  to  Mr. 
Edward  Gottschalk,  a  broker,  of  great  reputed  wealth,  much 
esteemed  as  a  gentleman  of  fine  culture,  and  remarkable  as 
a  linguist, — he  spoke  eight  or  nine  languages.  On  the  8th 
of  May,  1829,  Mrs.  Gottschalk  gave  birth  to  her  eldest  son, 
Louis  Moreau  Gottschalk,  the  subject  of  this  sketch.  He 
was  named  Moreau  after  an  uncle  on  his  mother's  side,  the 
Count  Moreau  de  I'lslet. 

From  his  birth  he  was  a  precocious  but  rather  delicate 
child,  and  early  displayed  a  taste  for  music,  singing  all  the 
V  tunes  he  heard  played.  The  cholera,  in  1831,  took  from 
him  a  little  sister,  and  left  his  mother,  who  had  also 
been  attacked  with  the  disease,  at  death's  door.  Her  phy- 
sician having  ordered  a  change  of  air,  his  father  purchased 
a  property  at  Pass  Christian,  on  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  where 
he  decided  to  settle  and  reside  until  his  wife's  health  should 
be  perfectly  restored. 

At  this  time  it  was  a  charming  but  wild  and  almost  un- 
inhabited spot.  The  change  of  scene  and  air  seemed  to 
have  the  desired  eiFect.  Mrs.  Gottschalk  began  to  im- 
prove, and  Moreau,  then  about  three  years  of  age,  seemed 
to  take  new  life  amidst  the  beauties  of  nature  which  sur- 
rounded him ;  his  health  became  invigorated,  and  he  fol- 
lowed his  father  in  all  his  rambles,  which  he,  a  great  lover 
of  nature,  took  morning  and  evening. 

Madam  Gottschalk,  who,  since  her  health  had  been  im- 
paired, sang  only  at  intervals,  resumed  again  her  youthful 
occupation  (she  was  then  only  nineteen  years  old),  and 
once  more  commenced  studying  singing.  Moreau,  seated 
alongside  of  her  on  a  little  stool,  listened  attentively  to  his 
mother,  without,  however,  her  observing  the  extraordinary 
interest  which  the  child  manifested  for  the  music.  One 
day,  when  she  had  been  practising  very  assiduously  the 
grand  air  of  '  Grace,'  from  the  opera  of  'Robert  le  Diable,' 


MOTHER'S  ASTONISHMENT.  27 

feeling  fatigued,  she  retired  into  her  chamber,  leaving  her 
child  alone  in  the  room,  when,  frightened  by  the  sound  of 
the  piano,  she  quickly  got  up,  as  the  Indians,  to  whom  nearly 
the  whole  place  belonged,  were  never  backward  in  com- 
mitting depredations.  The  first  thought  of  the  young  wufe 
w^as,  that  one  of  them  had  obtained  an  entrance  into  the 
house,  and,  attracted  by  the  sight  of  the  unknown  instru- 
ment, had  endeavoured  to  leam'for  himself  the  nature  of  the 
thing ;  when,  carefully  opening  the  door,  she  saw  the  child 
standing  on  a  stool  with  a  preoccupied  air,  w^ith  his  little 
hands  on  the  piano,  endeavouruig  to  find  the  keys  of  the 
notes  he  ought  to  strike.  His  mother,  utterly  astonished, 
did  not  speak  to  him,  but  w^atched  what  he  was  doing, 
when,  to  her  extreme  surprise,  the  child  reproduced  the  air 
which  she  had  sung  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before.  The  cry 
of  pride  given  by  the  young  mother  attracted  the  negro 
servants,  and,  to  the  great  terror  of  many  of  them,  they 
were  listeners  to  the  first  musical  essays  of  one  of  the 
greatest  pianists  that  ever  were  bom.  The  eldest  of  the 
negroes  shook  their  heads  and  whispered  the  word 
"  zombi,"  w^hich  in  the  negjro  toneue  signifies  devil ;  the 
younger  ones  looked  on  admiringly,  and  taking,  with  re- 
spect, the  little  hands  of  the  child  into  their  ow^n,  kissed 
them.  At  Mr.  Gottschalk's  return  the  circumstance  was 
related  to  him,  and  to  the  great  chagrin  of  his  wife  he 
instantly  decided  that  instead  of  remaining  he  would  en- 
deavour to  dispose  of  the  property  and  return  to  the  city, 
for  the  purpose  of  securing  to  the  child  a  perfect  musical 
education. 

Like  an  opening  flower  the  nature  of  the  child  developed 
itself  little  by  little.  His  heart  was  so  tender  that  he  could 
not  bear  to  see  any  one  around  him  suftering.  One  day, 
when  his  parents  nad  taken  him  with  them  to  pay  a  visit 
to  a  lady  some  distance  from  home,  the  child  was  painfully 
struck  at  the  sight  of  a  negress  w^ho  had  the  "  carcan"  (a 
species  of  round  wooden  instrument,  fastened  by  a  padlock 
placed  around  the  neck  of  negroes  as  a  punishment,  which 
prevents  them  from  lying  down — ^kept  on  sometimes  for 
two  or  three  months)  around  her  neck.  As  in  the  city  they 
were  less  cruel  to  their  slaves  than  in  the  country  where 
there  w^ere  no  magistrates  to  enforce  the  laws,  Moreau, 


28  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

never  before  having  seen  a  oaf  can,  turned  his  head  from  the 
sight  with  horror,  and  demanded,  to  her  great  mortifica- 
tion, an  explanation  from  Madam ,  to  whom  the  slave 

belonged.  She  endeavoured  to  make  the  child  understand 
that  the  nesjress  had  deserved  the  punishment,  and  that  he 
need  not  pity  her.  Nothing,  however,  could  calm  him, 
and  he  besought  his  father  to  buy  Sarah.  His  father  becom- 
ing quite  embarrassed,  Madam  took  up  the  matter 

seriously,  and  proposed  to  sell  Sarah,  who,  she  said,  was 
only  good  to  mind  the  chickens.  The  bargain  was  com- 
pleted, and  Mr.  Gottschalk  made  the  child  a  present  of 
Sarah,  who  became  a  devoted  servant  to  him,  and  afterwards 
the  child's-nurse  to  all  his  after-born  brothers  and  sisters. 

His  obedience  was  remarkable,  and  his  aftection  for  his 
mother  amounted  almost  to  idolatry.  His  father,  although 
-kind,  was  what  is  called  strict,  and  brought  up  his  little 
child  in  the  most  elevated  ideas,  and  never  permitted  him 
the  indulgence  of  any  weakness.  At  three  years  of  age, 
he  engaged  in  conversation  pertaining  to  a  child  of  seven, 
and  already  seemed  to  understand  the  extent  and  import- 
ance of  the  duties  which  his  father  placed  before  him. 
"  When  Moreau  shall  have  brothers  and  sisters,"  he  would 
say,  "papa  counts  upon  his  working  for  them, and  he  must 
think  beforehand  that  they  will  have  a  father  in  Moreau." 
The  little  child  understood  all,  and  seemed  in  advance  to 
adopt  the  prospective  family  which  his  father  at  a  later 
period  bequeathed  to  him. 

Summer  passed,  and  when  autumn  came  it  was  decided 
that  the  whole  family  should  return  to  ISTew  Orleans.  As 
long  as  the  summer  lasted.  Madam  Gottschalk  was  sorry 
at  the  prospect  of  quitting  so  charming  a  spot,  but,  when 
the  first  approach  of  winter  brought  the  Indians  from  the 
depths  of  the  forest  to  the  neighbourhood  of  the  dwelling, 
her  regrets  were  lessened,  particularly  so,  as  one  day,  when 
greatly  occupied  in  making  cakes  for  dessert,  her  beautiful 
white  arms  being  exposed,  a  passing  Indian  stopped  in  admi- 
ration of  her  beauty  and  made  an  attempt  to  kiss  them. 
She  called  for  help,  and  the  man  of  the  woods  went  laugh- 
ing away. 

This  incident  decided  her,  and  the  month  of  ISTovember 
saw  them  all  again  settled  in  ISTew  Orleans. 


PLAYS  THE  ORGAN.  29 


CHAPTER  n. 

The  first  thought  of  Mr.  Gottschalk,  after  their  return 
to  New  Orleans,  was  to  make  inquiries  for  the  best  professor 
of  the  piano.  Mr.  Letellier,  a  young  Frenchman,  a  singer 
of  great  talent  at  the  TheStre  d'Orleans,  was  introduced  to 
him,  and  immediately  Moreau  commenced  the  study  of 
music.  One  year  afterwards,  Mr.  Letellier,  full  of  pride  at 
the  remarkable  progress  of  his  pupil,  repeated  everywhere 
that  the  little  Gottschalk  could  read  at  first  sight  any 
manuscript  which  might  be  placed  before  him.  Besides 
the  piano  he  was  also  taught  the  violin,  and  Mr.  Miolan, 
the  brother  of  Madam  Carvalho,  the  French  singer,  was 
chosen  for  his  professor. 

Several  years  were  thus  passed.  Moreau,  although  in 
delicate  health,  grew  in  height ;  but  the  passion  he  had  for 
music  did  not  prevent  the  assiduous  labour  to  which  his 
father  subjected  him  from  becoming  injurious  to  his  con- 
stitution. One  day,  when  Mr.  Letellier,  who  was  organist 
at  the  Cathedral  of  St.  Louis,  had  taken  his  little  scholar 
to  show  him  the  mechanism  of  the  organ,  and  to  explain 
it  to  him,  he  was  surprised  to  see  how  quickly  the  child 
understood,  and  decided  to  teach  him  the  organ.  As  Mr. 
Gottschalk  made  no  objection  to  the  proposition,  the  idea 
of  the  professor  was  immediately  put  into  execution,  and 
the  lessons  commenced.  His  progress  was  so  rapid  that  one 
year  after — Moreau  might  then  have  been  seven  years  old — 
having  ffone  to  high  mass  one  Sunday,  Mr.  Letellier  beck- 
oned to  him  so  energetically  that  he  was  obliged  to  under- 
stand that  his  professor  wanted  him  in  the  choir;  but  what 
was  his  surprise  when,  reaching  it,  Mr.  Letellier  said  to 
him,  "I^ow,  then,  sit  down,  and  decipher  this  mass  for  me; 
the  tenor  is  ill,  I  must  take  his  place,  and  there  is  nobody 
else  to  play  the  organ ;  and  above  all  make  no  blunders — 
now  begin."  Trembling,  but  not  daring  to  disobey,  the 
child  commenced.     Mr.  Letellier  managed    the    pedals, 

3* 


30  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

which  his  little  feet  could  not  reach.  When  the  mass  was 
finished,  the  professor  took  his  pupil  in  his  arms,  and,  going 
down  stairs, presented  him  to  his  father,  saying :  "There  is 
the  most  beautiful  flower  of  my  crown ;  if  this  child  does 
not  become  the  greatest  musician  in  the  world,  sacre  Dieu! 
my  name  is  not  Letellier:"  and  the  good  man,  weeping 
with  emotion,  kissed  him.   The  child,  impatient  to  go  home, 

f rasped  his  father's  hand,  and  tried  to  drag  him  away, 
'hen  running  on  before,  he  did  not  stop  until  he  reached 
home.  "Where  is  mamma?"  he  inquired,  and,  throwing 
himself  into  his  mother's  arms,  endeavoured  to  relate  to  her 
his  morning's  success ;  but  so  great  was  his  emotion,  that 
Mr.  Gottschalk  was  obliged  to  go  to  his  assistance,  and  to 
explain  what  had  happened. 

Several  years  passed  away.  Moreau  had  attained  ten 
years  of  age ;  his  talent  was  so  great  that  there  was  nothing 
further  diflBcult  for  him,  so  Mr.  Letellier  candidly  acknowE 
edged  that  he  had  nothing  more  to  teach  him,  and  the  only 
thing  remaining  to  be  done  was  to  send  him  to  France. 
Mr.  Gottschalk,  who  had  always  cherished  the  thought  of 
having  his  children  educated  in  Europe,  was  only  too  happy 
to  have  a  reason  for  it,  and  decided,  to  the  great  regret  of 
his  wife,  that  his  son  should  leave  New  Orleans  and  go  to 
Paris,  when  he  should  attain  the  age  of  twelve  years. 

At  •this  period,  the  condition  of  the  Theatre  d'Orleans, 
owing  to  many  circumstances  useless  to  mention,  was  far 
from  flourishing,  and  many  of  the  musicians  of  the  orchestra 
were  unemployed.  Mr.  Miolan,  one  of  the  number,  came 
one  day  to  Mr.  Gottschalk  to  request  him  to  permit  his  son 
to  play  at  a  concert  which  he  was  about  to  give  for  his  own 
benefit.  At  this  time  Mr.  Gottschalk,  engaged  in  business 
as  a  stock-broker,  was  led  to  indulge  the  hope  of  an  inde- 
pendent fortune  for  his  children,  and,  never  having  an  idea 
that  any  of  them  would  be  in  the  musical  profession,  he 
flatly  refused.  But  Mr.  Miolan  would  take  no  refusal, 
and  returned  again  to  the  charge.  The  second  time  his 
petition  met  with  more  success,  as  it  was  supported  by  the 
wish  which  the  little  artist  had  of  being  heard  in  public. 
A  select  programme  was,  therefore,  placed  before  the  eyes 
of  the  Creole  and  American  dilettanti  of  ITew  Orleans ; 
and  in  a  few  days  more  tickets  were  sold  than  the  concert 


FAREWELL  CONCERT.  81 

room  could  seat.  On  the  evening  of  tlie  performance  the 
hall  was  crowded,  and  there  was  hardly  standing  room  to 
be  found.  The  young  artist  played  several  pieces,  but  the 
one  which  was  most  successful  was  the  '  Lucie'  by  Hertz. 
When  he  came  to  the  most  difficult  passage  of  the  piece, 
the  enthusiasm  was  at  its  height,  and  the  last  note  was 
hardly  struck  when  the  young  executant  was  carried  off 
in  triumph. 

Everything  being  arranged  for  Moreau's  departure,  in 
April,  1842,  at  the  request  of  his  father's  friends,  he  gave 
a  farewell  concert.  At  the  head  of  the  patrons  of  the  con- 
cert was  Mr.  David,  the  French  consul.  The  expected  day, 
awaited  with  so  much  impatience  by  all  the  musical  ama- 
teurs, and  by  the  curious  who  had  never  heard  the  young 
musician,  at  last  arrived.  ITever,  perhaps,  had  the  splendid 
ball-room  St.  Louis  been  filled  with  so  large  and  brilliant 
an  assemblage.  All  the  illte  of  the  city  were  there.  At 
the  conclusion  of  the  concert,  Mr.  David  stepped  upon  the 
stage  and  presented  to  the  young  artist  a  monstrous  bouquet. 
Moreau  thought  but  of  one  thing,  his  mother,  and,  turning 
to  the  stage-box  where  she  was  seated,  screamed  out, 
"Mamma,  it  is  for  you!" 

On  the  evening  of  the  concert,  the  little  pianist  went  to 
the  hairdresser,  Mr.  Barraud,  to  have  his  hair  dressed. 
"  Ah  1  I  see,"  said  the  hairdresser,  "  you  are  going  to  the 
concert  of  little  Moreau  Gottschalk !  I  also  should  like  to 
have  gone,  but  I  cannot  spare  so  much  money  at  once !" 
"  Would  you  like  to  go?"  asked  Moreau.  "To  go!  indeed 
I  should."  "Very  well,  then,  I  can  give  you  a  ticket ;  I  am 
Moreau  Gottschalk."  Great  was  the  surprise  of  the  hair- 
dresser, and  Moreau  had  that  evening  one  more  admirer. 


CHAPTER  m. 


In  May,  1842,  Moreau  left  New  Ork^ans  on  the  Taglioni, 
a  sailing  vessel,  bound  for  Havre,  under  the  command  of 
Captain  Rogers,  a  friend  of  Mr.  Gottschalk,  in  whose  charge 


32  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

he  was  placed.  His  departure  broke  the  hearts  of  the 
family,  out  the  father  was  inflexible,  and  the  mother 
yielded.  The  July  following  he  arrived  in  Paris,  and  was 
placed  to  board  in  a  private  family,  who  never  received 
more  than  six  boarders  at  a  time.  His  first  musical  pro- 
fessor was  Halle,  but  those  to  whom  Moreau  was  confided, 
not  liking  the  nonchalant  manner  with  which  he  taught 
his  pupils,  gave  him  up  and  placed  Moreau  under  the  mu- 
sical tutelage  of  the  best  French  professor  of  the  time, 
Camille  Staraaty,  a  most  conscientious,  noble-hearted,  and 
high-minded  man.  Moreau,  in  after  years,  was  often  pleased 
to  say  that  he  had  never  loved  and  respected  any  man  more 
than  his  dear  professor,  Mr.  Stamaty.  In  addition  to  music, 
he  seriously  engaged  in  other  studies.  Composition  was 
taught  him  by  Mr.  Maleden,  whose  name  is  celebrated 
for  the  scholars  he  has  educated,  among  whom  may  be 
mentioned  Saint  Saens.  French,  Italian,  Latin,  Greek, 
riding,  and  fencing — ^nothing  was  neglected.  At  the  same 
time  he  was  introduced  into  the  noble  and  elegant  so- 
ciety of  Paris,  and  his  refined  and  delicate  manners  soon 
made  him  a  favorite.  The  Duke  of  Salvandi,  and  the 
Duchesse  de  Narbonne,  to  whom  he  was  introduced  at  the 
house  of  his  grandaunt,  the  Marquise  de  la  Grange,  became 
his  patrons;  afterwards,  the  Duke  d'Ecarre,  Kothschild, 
and  Edouard  Rodrigue  were  added  to  the  list  of  those  who 
most  admired  and  esteemed  him. 

Moreau  pursued  his  studies  with  great  ardour.  He  pos- 
sessed a  very  remarkable  memory  for  music,  being  able  to 
recollect  hundreds  of  pages  of  it  after  one  or  two  days'  study. 
In  literature,  however,  it  was  different,  and  he  had  more 
difficulty  in  retaining  what  he  had  learned.  Piqued  by  the 
remonstrances  of  his  professor,  he  formed  a  system  of  mu- 
deal  WMeniotechny^  which  he  applied  to  history  and  geog- 
raphy. In  the  same  way  he  applied  it  to  the  'Art  poetique' 
of  Boileau,  and  learned  it  by  heart,  and  by  this  means  soon 
became  very  proficient.  At  the  age  of  seventeen,  he  could 
converse  with  equal  facility  in  English,  French,  and  Italian. 
He  read  Virgil,  translated  Dante,  recited  the  '  Orientales'  of 
Victor  Hugo,  and,  when  twenty-two,  spoke  Spanish  like 
Gil  Bias. 

Previous  to  1845,  he  had  only  played  in  the  salons  of  the 


CHOPIN'S  COMPLIMENT.  88 

Parisian  aristocracy,  among  whom  he  was  f  §ted  and  caressed 
on  account  of  his  aristocratic  manners  and  great  talent  as 
an  artist.  He  now,  however,  decided  to  appear  in  public, 
and  in  April  of  this  year  gave  a  concert,  non  payant^  at  the 
Salle  Pleyel,  the  announcement  of  which  create<l  a  marked 
sensation.  Rumour  had  spoken  so  frequently  of  the  young 
Gottschalk  in  the  fashionable  world,  he  had  been  so  much  aj)- 
plauded,  that  all  were  eager  to  hear  him.  Besides,  he  was  an 
"American,"  and  the  question  was  asked,  "Could  America 
produce  an  artist?"     The  hall  was  filled  to  overflowing. 

The  anticipations  of  this  brilliant  assemblage,  composed 
of  the  Parisian  and  foreign  aristocracy,  as  well  as  of  his 
fellow-countrymen  then  resident  in  Paris,  as  also  of  all  the 
principal  artists,  were  perfectly  realized.  The  splendid 
playing  of  the  yoting  pianist,  at  once  elegant  and  vigorous, 
his  expression  so  pure  and  impassioned,  and  the  gleams  of 
decided  originality,  all  combined  to  secure  for  him  the  most 
brilliant  success.  At  the  close  of  the  concert  the  applause 
was  immense,  and  a  wreath  of  flowers  was  thrown  to  the 
young  virtuoso.  The  graceful  and  modest  manner  with 
which  he  received  it  completed  his  success.  Chopin,  who 
was  present,  after  the  concert,  said  in  the  artists'  room,  in  the 
presence  of  his  friends,  putting  his  hands  on  his  head,  'Don- 
nez  moi  la  main,mon  enfant;  je  vous  predis  que  vous  serez 
le  roi  des  pianistes."  (Give  me  your  hand,  my  child;  I 
predict  that  you  will  become  the  king  of  pianists.)  These 
few  and  simple  words  Moreau  valued  more  than  all  the 
bravos  he  had  received,  for  Chopin  was  chary  of  his  praise. 
From  that  hour  he  held  his  diploma  as  an  artist. 

He  had  hitherto  been  known  only  from  playing  the  com- 
positions of  others,  Beethoven,  Mendelssohn,  Liszt,  Thal- 
berg,  and  Chopin.  He  now  became  a  composer  himself. 
In  1846  he  wrote  his  'Danse  Ossianique.'  It  was  but  a 
trifle,  but  gave  evidence  of  future  greatness.  This  germ  of 
originality  revealed  itself  more  and  more  in  the  pieces  en- 
titled 'Les  Ballades  d'Ossian,'  or  'Le  Lai  du  Dernier  Mene- 
strel,'  '  La  Grande  Valse,'  and  '  La  Grande  Etude  de  Con- 
cert,' which  appeared  in  1847. 

In  the  month  of  N"ovember,  1847,  he  wished  to  make  his 
first  trial  in  one  of  the  provinces  before  a  paying  public, 
and  like  Liszt  and  Thalberg  he  chose  for  his  debut  the  city  of 


84  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

Sedan,  which  enjoyed  a  certain  reputation  for  dilettanteism. 
He  was  not  less  fortunate  than  his  illustrious  predecessors, 
and  was  received  with  rapturous  applause. 

It  might  be  supposed  that  such  great  success  would  have 
spoiled  nim,  and  that  the  way  in  which  he  was  courted 
and  f §ted  everywhere  would  have  robbed  him  of  his  sim- 
plicity of  heart.  But  such  was  not  the  case;  he  remained 
the  same  kind,  gentle,  benevolent,  modest  youth  that  his 
infant  days  gave  promise  of.  The  following  anecdote  will 
give  some  insight  into  his  nature. 

One  Sunday  eve  in  Paris,  as  he  was  walking  leisurely 
home,  he  heard  a  deep-drawn  sigh,  then  a  sob;  turning 
round  he  beheld  a  young  recruit,  almost  a  child,  bedewed 
in  tears.  His  sorrow  was  so  genuine,  his  grief  so  unfeigned, 
that  he  asked  him  if  he  could  do  anything  to  help  him. 
"  Alas,  no,"  answered  the  lad;  "an  accident  has  happened  to 
me  that  has  no  remedy,  and  which  will  bring  on  me  such 
a  punishment  as  I  shall  never  be  able  to  bear."  "  But  what  is 
it?"  asked  Gottschalk.  "Well,  you  see,  sir,  whenever  we 
tear  or  lose  any  of  our  clothes,  we  have  to  remain  in  perfect 
confinement  for  a  week  or  more,  sometimes  in  darkness ;  it 
depends  on  the  nature  of  the  article  we  have  lost  or  torn. 
I  have  just  torn  my  trousers,  and  I  dare  not  go  back  to  the 
barracks,  for  if  I  have  to  undergo  such  a  punishment  I 
shall  make  away  with  myself.  Fancy,  Monsieur,  I,  coming 
from  the  country,  being  deprived  of  air  and  light  for  a 
fortnight !"  Gottschalk,  greatly  touched,  bade  the  recruit  to 
follow,  and,  being  near  the  Rue  de  Londres,  where  he  knew 
a  kind  and  obligmg  tailor,  he  retraced  his  steps  thither.  He 
found  the  man  and  his  family  gathered  together  reading ; 
he  explained  the  case,  and  begged  the  tailor  for  the  poor 
young  man's  sake  to  see  what  was  needed  to  be  done.  The 
Kind  tailor  readily  complied,  and  with  the  help  of  his  wife 
managed  to  repair  the  garment,  and  thus  save  the  young  man 
from  his  dreaded  punishment.  Needless  to  say,  he  paid  the 
tailor  handsomely  for  the  time  and  labour  he  had  expended. 

Once,  when  about  entering  one  of  those  large  confec- 
tioneries called  restaurants  in  Paris,  he  noticed  a  young 
soldier  who  was  standing  at  the  window  admiring  and 
seeming  ready  to  devour  all  the  good  things  so  beautifully 
decorated  and  arranged  to  tempt  the  public.    The  young 


GOTTSCHALK  AND  SOLDIER.  85 

soldier's  face  was  so  honest  and  he  seemed  so  to  enjoy  the 
fruit,  meats,  and  other  things  throug^h  the  glass,  that  Gott- 
sehalk  turned  round  and  spoke  to  him.  The  youth  started, 
blushed,  and  taking  off  his  cap  kept  turning  it  round  and 
round  in  his  fingers.  "No,  indeed,  I  do  not  joke,"  re{)lied 
Gottschalk,  "when  I  ask  you  if  you  should  like  to  go  inside 
and  take  dinner  there."  "But,  Monsieur,  who  is  to  pay 
for  it?"  "I,  of  course,"  answered  Gottschalk.  "0  Mon- 
sieur !"  w^as  all  the  soldier  could  say.  They  went  in ;  bv 
Gottschalk's  order  the  bill  of  fare  was  handed  to  the  sol- 
dier. He  kept  reading  it,  but  now  that  he  had  his  choice 
he  could  not  make  up  his  mind,  and  at  last  with  a  deep 
sigh  he  said,  "I  cannot  choose,  Monsieur."  Gottschalk, 
laughing,  called  the  waiter  and  ordered  a  dinner,  such  as, 
more  than  likely,  the  son  of  Mars  had  never  eaten,  and 
never  did  eat  in  aftertimes.  On  his  return  home  Gott- 
schalk told  it  to  his  family,  and  said  he  was  touched  jto 
tears  to  see  with  what  avidity  the  poor  lad  ate  and  how 
grateful  he  was  for  such  a  treat. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  health  of  his  mother  having  become  delicate,  owing 
to  her  grief  arising  from  long  separation  from  her  much 
loved  son,  it  was  arranged  that  she  should  go  to  Paris  with 
her  other  children,  who  would  thus  also  have  the  benefit 
of  a  Parisian  education.  This  resolution  was  speedily  car- 
ried out,  and  the  family  soon  found  themselves  in  Paris. 
The  reunion  of  mother  and  son  was  very  affecting.  From 
this  moment  Moreau  became  the  sole  protector  of  his 
mother  and  the  younger  children,  his  father,  whose  busi- 
ness detained  him  in  New  Orleans,  having  confided  to  him 
the  care  of  the  family. 

The  great  success  Gottschalk  met  with  at  Sedan  induced 
him  to  give  another  concert  at  the  Salle  Pleyel.  The 
audience  was  equally  distinguished  as  the  first,  and  the 


36  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

feuilleton  now  mingled  its  praises  with  those  of  the  connois- 
seurs. Thalberg,  who  was  present,  grasping  his  hand,  said, 
"Young  man,  I  predict  for  you  a  future  such  as  few  men 
have  yet  seen." 

"A  young  pianist,"  says  a  critic  on  this  occasion,  "  of  a 
most  promising  future,  Mr.  Gottschalk,  whom  the  salons  so 
readily  received  into  their  protection,  has  just  performed 
publicly  in  the  Salle  Pleyel.  Bom  upon  the  banks  of  the 
Mississippi,  he  seems  to  have  brought  to  the  Old  World 
songs  which  he  had  gathered  in  the  virgin  forests  of  his 
country.  ITothing  can  be  more  original,  or  more  pleasing 
to  the  ear  than  the  composition  of  this  young  Creole. 
Listen  to  the  '  Bamboula,'  and  you  will  comprehend  the 
poetry  of  a  tropical  clime.  Gottschalk's  execution  is  mar- 
vellous. He  possesses  a  force,  a  grace,  an  abandonment 
which  carry  you  away,  in  spite  of  yourself,  and  compel 
you  to  applaud  like  a  mere  claqueur.  The  piano  is  no 
longer  the  dry  and  monotonous  instrument  with  which 
you  were  acquainted,  and  you  will  find  springing  from  be- 
neath the  creative  fingers  of  the  artist  all  the  timbres  of  the 
orchestra,  tous  les  soupirs  des  instruments  ct  vent.^^ 

"There  is  a  scale  like  a  string  of  pearls  leading  you 
back  to  the  minor  key  !  Oh !  listen  to  that  scale  which 
flows  so  sweetly ;  it  is  not  the  hand  of  a  man  which  touches 
the  keys ;  it  is  the  wing  of  a  sylph  that  caresses  them,  and 
causes  them  to  resound  with  the  purest  harmony." 

The  composition  of  'Bamboula'  was  written  under 
the  following  circumstances.  After  his  mother's  arrival 
Moreau  was  stricken  down  with  typhoid  fever.  During 
the  delirium  which  accompanies  this  fever,  he  was  seen  to 
wave  his  hands,  which  those  around  him  supposed  to  be 
symptoms  of  the  delirium ;  but  during  his  convalescence, 
which  was  very  slow,  he  one  day  got  up  and  wrote  out 
'  Bamboula,'  which  he  said  had  been  running  in  his  brain 
during  his  illness.  It  is  composed  upon  four  bars  of  a 
negro  melody,  well  known  in  Louisiana,  and  is  considered 
one  of  the  most  remarkable,  as  it  is  one  of  the  most  diffi- 
cult of  execution,  of  all  his  compositions. 

When  he  had  sufficiently  improved,  he  went  to  the 
Ardennes,  for  the  full  recovery  of  his  health,  and  there 
composed  the  '  Danse  des  Ombres,'  the  name  of  which  he 


BAMBOULA.  87 

afterwards  changed  to  that  of  '  Danse  Ossianicjue,'  besides 
the  two '  Ballades  d'Ossian/  which  he  composed  in  one  night 
for  the  fete  day  of  his  mother.  The '  Bananier,'  one  of  liis 
best  compositions,  was  then  written.  At  this  i)eriod  he 
made  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Leon  Escudier,  who  became 
not  only  the  intelligent  publisher  of  his  works  in  Paris,  but 
the  devoted  friend  which  he  remained  until  the  death  of 
Gottschalk.  He  also  composed  *  Les  Colliers  d'Or,'  which 
afterwards  gave  rise  to  a  singular  episode.  In  1848  the  fol- 
lowing criticism  and  notice  appeared  in  '  La  France  ilusi- 
cale/  raris. 

Who  does  not  know  the  *  Bambonla  V  Who  is  there  who  has  not  read 
the  description  of  that  picturesque,  exciting  dance,  which  gives  expression 
to  the  feeling  of  the  negroes  ?  Joyful  or  sad,  plaintive,  amorous,  jealous, 
forsaken,  solitary,  fatigued,  ennnied,  or  the  heart  filled  with  grief,  the 
negro  forgets  all  in  dancing  the  *  Bamboula.'  Look  down  there  at  those 
two  black-tinted  women,  with  short  petticoats,  their  necks  and  ears  orna- 
mented with  coral,  le  regard  hrulant,  dancing  under  the  banana  tree; 
the  whole  of  their  bodies  is  in  movement ;  further  on  are  groups  who  ex- 
cite and  stimulate  them  to  every  excess  of  fancy  ;  two  negroes  roll  their 
active  fingers  over  a  noisy  tambourine,  accompanying  it  with  a  languishing 
chant,  lively  or  impassioned,  according  to  the  pose  of  the  dancers.  Little 
negroes,  like  those  on  the  canvas  of  Decamps,  are  jumping  around  the 
fiddlers  ;  it  is  full  of  folly  and  delusion.    The  *  Bamboula'  is  at  its  height. 

This  attractive  dance  has  frequently  furnished  a  theme  for  instrumental 
compositions,  which,  however,  have  not  obtained  all  the  success  that  we 
expected  from  them.  The  Creole  airs  transported  into  our  salons  lose 
their  character,  at  once  wild,  languishing,  indescribable,  which  has  no  re- 
semblance to  any  other  European  music  ;  some  have  thought  that  it  was  suf- 
ficient to  have  the  chants  written  down,  and  to  reproduce  them  with  varia- 
tions, in  order  to  obtain  new  efi'ects  :  not  so,  the  effects  have  failed.  One 
must  have  lived  under  the  burning  sky  from  whence  the  Creole  draws  his 
melodies  ;  one  must  be  impregnated  with  these  eccentric  chants,  which 
are  little  dramas  in  action  ;  in  one  word,  one  must  be  Creole,  as  composer 
and  executant,  in  order  to  feel  and  make  others  understand  the  whole 
originality  of  *  Bamboula.*  ♦ 

We  have  discovered  this  Creole  composer ;  an  American  composer,  hnn 
Dieu!  Yes,  indeed,  and  a  pianist  composer  and  player  of  the  highest 
order,  who  as  yet  is  only  known  in  the  aristocratic  salons  of  Paris,  and 
whose  name  will  soon  make  a  great  noise.  We  have  German  pianists, 
Hungarian,  Russian,  Italian  pianists.  We  have  ended  by  discovering 
French  pianists  ;  and  now  we  have  an  American  pianist.  His  name  is 
Gottschalk.  Close  the  lips,  advance  the  tongue,  appear  a  little  like 
whistling,  and  you  will  have  the  key  to  the  pronunciation.  Gottschalk  is 
already  a  marvellous  pianist ;  his  school  is  that  of  Chopin,  Thalberg,  and 
Prudent  united  together.  He  has  taken  from  one  his  lightness,  grace,  and 
purity ;  from  the  others,  their  unrestrained  passion  and  their  attractive 
brilliancy  ;  and  I  can  assure  you  that  for  a  long  time  a  pianist  so  original, 
so  sympathetic,  has  not  been  seen.      Gottschalk  has  composed  several 

4 


38  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

pieces,  among  others,  one  which  is  a  chef  d'oRuvre,  This  piece  he  calls 
*Bamboula.*  I  have  heard  this  '  Bamboula*  ten  times  ;  in  the  salons  of  Mme. 
Merlin,  of  Mr.  Orfila,  of  the  Marquis  d'Albucenza,  etc.,  and  ten  times  the 
young  artist  has  had  to  repeat  it  amid  the  warmest  applause. 

On  these  words,  Quand  patate  la  cuite  na  va  mange  li,  nava  mange  li,  the 
Creoles  chant  a  short,  but  poetic  and  nonchalant  motive.  Gottschalk  has 
taken  the  first  four  bars  of  this  motive,  and  on  this  theme  has  embroidered 
all  sorts  of  charming  fantasies.  The  pianist  vigorously  attacks  the  Creole 
chant,  then  follows  a  second  motive  in /sharp  of  an  original  and  singing 
rhythm.  The  accompaniment  he  makes  very  staccato^  the  middle  chant, 
played  languidly,  contrasts  in  a  strange,  but  deliciously  poetic  way,  with 
the  bass,  which  always  energetically  marks  the  rhythm* 

On  the  third  chant,  in  h  flai^  comes  a  variation  with  a  crescendo  fcyrtissimjo^ 
and  directly  afterwards  the  same  motive  in  bjlat  reappears,  and  progres- 
sively disappears ;  hardly  is  it  finished,  when  the  rentree  is  made  by  a 
dazzling  trait  dash,  which  I  can  only  compare  to  a  cascade  of  pearls  ;  this 
trait  very  beautifully  brings  back  the  motive  in  djlat.  After  this  succeed 
variations  in  triplets,  made  with  wonderful  lightness.  The  theme  in  6 
Jlat  reappears  with  a  pianissimo  variation,  whose  harmonies  are  of  unri- 
valled richness.  The  pianist  immediately  falls  back  on  the  chord  of  dflat, 
escapes  by  an  ascending  fusee,  and  immediately  returns  to  the  theme,  h 
Jiat  minor,  by  a  descending  scale  made  with  prodigious  agility.  But  why 
continue  the  analysis  of  this  *  Bamboula  V  How  give  with  the  pen  even  an 
incomplete  idea  of  it  ?  I  would  say,  and  would  repeat  it  a  hundred  times, 
that  there  are  new  variations,  motives  in  bjiat,  or  in  d  flat  crescendo,  forte, 
traits,  arpeggios,  etc.  *  Bamboula'  is  a  musical  poesy  which  defies  analy- 
sis, and  Gottschalk  is  a  pianist  whose  name  is  inscribed  in  the  front  of 
popular  favour.  Behold  his  horoscope  !  He  will  march  alongside  of  the 
stars  of  the  piano,  in  the  midst  of  applauses  and  triumphs. 

Gottschalk,  whose  health  demanded  a  change  of  scene 
and  air,  resolved  to  make  a  pedestrian  tour  in  the  Vosges. 
He  left  Paris  on  foot,  carrying  his  passport  in  a  carpet  bag ; 
arriving  at  an  inn,  he  passed  the  night  there,  and  at  day- 
break next  morning  rose  and  went  out  to  take  a  walk. 
The  beauty  of  the  landscape,  and  perhaps  absence  of  mind, 
prevented  him  from  recognizing  how  far  he  had  gone,  and 
consequently  how  distant  he  was  from  his  inn,  where  he 
had  left  his  carpet  bag,  expecting  to  return  to  breakfast. 
To  his  surprise,  on  looking  around,  he  found  himself  in  the 
large  street  of  a  village,  while  he  still  thought  himself  in  the 
open  country ;  but  his  surprise  was  increased  by  the  dis- 
agreeable sensation  of  a  heavy  hand  laid  upon  his  shoulder. 
Turning  round  he  saw  a  gendarme,  who  regarded  him  with 
suspicion,  and  seemed  ready  to  arrest  him. 

"  Your  passport !" 

"  My  passport !  but  I  have  not  got  it  with  me ;  I  left  it 
at  my  inn  this  morning,"  replied  Gottschalk. 


AN  AD  VENTURE.  89 

"  Yes,  yes,  we  know  that ;  if  thou  hast  not  got  it,  for- 
ward march  to  the  guardhouse." 

Gottschalk,  for  an  instant,  thought  of  resifiting,  but  as  a 
crowd  of  idlers  began  to  assemble,  he  j)Ut  on  a  stout  heart 
and  followed  the  gendarme.  Arriving  at  the  guardhouse, 
he  was  left  alone  for  a  few  moments,  awaiting  the  mayor 
to  examine  him.  After  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  solitude 
another  gendarme  entered,  and,  seating  himself  near  a  win- 
dow, without  taking  the  trouble  to  Took  at  the  prisoner, 
took  a  paper  from  his  pocket  and  beean  reading,  'La 
France  Musicale,'  then  edited  by  Leon  and  Marie  Escudier, 
in  which  was  an  account  of  the  last  private  concert  given 
by  Gottschalk,  and  in  which  '  Les  Colliers  d'Or'  was  in- 
scribed in  large  letters  on  the  back  of  the  paper.  Think- 
ing that  the  opportunity  had  arrived  for  proving  his  iden- 
tity, he  spoke  to  the  gendarme,  and  said  to  him : — 

"  My  good  man,  if  you  wish  to  know  who  I  am,  you 
have  only  to  read  the  article  on  the  third  page  and  back  of 
the  fourth." 

The  gendarme,  who  had  probably  in  him  more  refine- 
ment than  his  comrade,  looked  at  the  pianist  attentively, 
and  without  saying  a  word  left  the  room.  A  few  moments 
had  hardly  elapsed  when  Gottschalk  was  brought  before 
the  mayor.  The  mayor,  who  was  a  very  fat,  good-natured 
man,  and  quite  jovial,  questioned  his  prisoner,  and  having 
learned  his  name  laughed  heartily  at  the  adventure ;  but 
Gottschalk,  with  the  perspicacity  which  characterized  him, 
perceiving  that  he  still  had  a  faint  trace  of  suspicion,  led 
the  conversation  in  such  a  way  that  he  learned  from  tjie 
good  Mr.  Mayor  that  he  had  two  daughters  who  played  on 
the  piano,  and  that  the  '  Bananier'  was  one  of  their  favourite 
pieces.  "  They  have  a  piano,"  thought  Gottschalk ;  "  all 
right ;"  and  he  felt  that  the  difficulty  of  making  himself 
known  was  removed.  Half  an  hour  afterwards  the  young 
pianist  saw  himself  at  the  piano,  having  the  whole  family 
of  Mr.  Mayor  for  his  audience.  There  was  no  longer  any 
question  about  the  passport.  A  piece  played  like  that  could 
only  appertain  to  the  young  American,  whose  talent  was 
making  so  much  noise  at  Paris.  Gottschalk  was  invited 
to  spend  several  days  in  the  family  of  the  mayor,  to  the 
mortification  of  the  gendarme  who  arrested  him,  and  the 


40  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

great  disappointment  of  the  rabble  of  the  village,  who  had 
hoped  that  the  episode  would  have  terminated  in  a  very 
different  way. 

On  his  return  to  Paris  he  performed  at  several  concerts 
got  up  by  Mr.  Leon  Escudier,  and  afterwards,  yielding  to 
the  desire  of  a  great  number  of  persons,  he  gave  lessons  on 
the  piano. 

About  this  period  Gottschalk  became  acquainted  with 
the  celebrated  Protestant  preacher  in  Paris,  Mr.  Adolphe 
Monod.  lie  had  been  very  kind  to  a  person  in  whom 
Mr.  Monod  was  very  much  interested,  which,  coming  to 
the  knowledge  of  the  latter,  resulted  in  a  warm  friend- 
ship, and  in  Gottschalk  becoming  a  frequent  visitor  at  his 
house.  Mr.  Monod  was  very  fond  of  music,  and  Gottschalk 
was  always  pleased  to  gratify  him.  He  was  accustomed  to 
say,  that  his  music  was  "  more  fit  for  heaven  than  for  earth." 

On  one  occasion  Mr.  Monod  called  on  Gottschalk  to  in- 
vite him  to  spend  an  evening  with  him,  to  meet  some  of 
his  English  friends  then  in  Paris.  Gottschalk  was  not  at 
home.  As  he  was  returning  he  met  him  in  the  street. 
While  talking  together  a  poor  woman  came  up  and  asked 
them  for  alms.  Mr.  Monod,  wishing  to  discover  if  he  was 
as  benevolent  as  he  was  talented,  left  him,  and  watched 
to  see  what  the  young  pianist  would  do.  He  saw  him  talk 
to  the  woman,  give  her  alms,  walk  a  little  way  with  her, 
and  get  at  a  baKer's  shop  a  large  loaf  of  bread  and  hand 
it  to  her.  "  This  act,"  said  Mr.  Monod,  "touched  me  more 
than  anything  I  had  yet  seen,  because  it  was  done  without 
his  being  aware  that  any  one  saw  him." 

The  intimacy  and  friendship  which  existed  between  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Monod  and  Gottschalk  soon  extended  to  their 
respective  families,  and  subsist  between  the  survivors  of 
them  to  this  day. 

In  1850  the  workshops  of  Mr.  Pleyel,  the  celebrated 
piano  manufacturer  of  Paris,  unfortunately  burned  down 
and  threw  a  large  number  of  workmen  out  of  employment. 
The  susceptible  heart  of  Gottschalk  was  greatly  affected 
by  their  misfortune,  and,  resolving  to  come  to  their  assist- 
ance, he  proposed  to  give  a  concert  for  their  benefit  in 
Pleyel's  Concert  Hall.  In  a  week  there  was  not  a  place  to 
be  had ;  all  the  seats  were  sold.    Mr.  Erard,  another  cele- 


i 


CONCERT  FOR  WORKMEN.  41 

brated  piano  manufacturer,  generously  subscribed  500 
francs ;  and  asked  only  for  ten  stalls.  Mr.  Pleyel  did  the 
same.  The  banker,  Mr.  Nathan  Treill6,  Madam  Mennechet 
de  Barival,  the  intelligent  and  charming  woman,  each  took 
100  francs'  worth  of  tickets.  Mr.  Javal,  Mr.  Orlila,  etc. 
also  subscribed.  The  following  is  translated  from  an  ac- 
count of  the  concert  by  Mr.  Escudier  as  it  appeared  in 
'  La  France  Musicale'  of  the  27th  of  April,  1850. 

THE  WORKMEN  OF  PLEYEL  AND  GOTTSCHALK. 

Here  is  one  of  the  most  beautifal  and  most  complete  triumphs  which  we 
have  witnessed  this  winter.  Gottschalk  can  inscribe  this  evening  upon 
his  heart ;  there  was  never  anything  more  solemn  and  more  animated. 
It  was  for  the  workingmen,  victims  of  the  fire  at  Mr.  Pleyel's  manufac- 
tory, that  Gottschalk  had  brought  together  all  the  artists,  all  the  fashion- 
able world  of  Paris ;  marquises,  duchesses,  bankers,  men  of  letters,  and 
statesmen.  All  the  salons  were  so  full  that  two  hundred  persons  could 
not  obtain  a  place  to  be  present  at  the  fete. 

There  is  Gottschalk  ;  they  clap  their  hands  ;  the  celebrated  artist  is  pro- 
digious ;  he  plays  with  an  art,  a  grace,  a  spirit,  a  lightness,  a  power,  which 
carries  off  everybody,  marquises,  bankers,  and  duchesses.  He  commenced 
the  concert  with  '  LaChasse  du  jeune  Henri,'  and  finished  with  '  Bamboula.' 
He  was  called  to  repeat  all  his  pieces,  and,  to  content  the  enthusiasts  who 
did  not  cease  to  cry  encore,  he  added  to  his  programme  *  Moissonneuse,  Ban- 
anier,'  which  he  had  to  play  twice,  and* God  save  the  Queen,'  which 
was  also  called  for  again.  These  taken  in  account,  Gottschalk  played  four- 
teen times.  They  cried  encore  after  *  Mancenillier,'  an  adorable  composl* 
tion,  &chef  d^ceuvre  of  genius  which  was  ten  times  interrupted  by  applause. 

Hardly  had  Gottschalk  again  finished  playing  on  the  piano  this  charming 
poetic  inspiration,  when  a  workman  of  Pleyel's  factory  advanced  upon  the 
stage,  holding  a  majestic  bouquet  in  his  hand,  which  he  presented  to  the 
beloved  musician  in  the  name  of  his  comrades.  The  hall,  as  you  may  well 
suppose,  was  carried  away ;  then  Gottschalk  executed  the  andante  of  *Lucie' 
by  Liszt.  He  is  at  least  an  artist,  a  great  artist,  who  can  interpret  in 
the  author's  manner  this  original  and  difficult  composition.  I  wish  that 
Liszt  had  been  there ;  he  would,  like  all  the  rest  of  us,  have  frantically 
clapped  his  hands.  On  all  sides  they  cried  encore,  and  through  the  whole 
hall  they  rose  up,  the  better  to  see  if  Gottschalk  had  not  more  than  two 
hands  at  the  ends  of  his  arms. 

The  morning  after  this  fete,  the  workmen  of  Pleyel's  factories  went  to 
express  their  gratitude  to  Mr.  Gottschalk,  and  sent  to  him  a  letter  of  thanks 
which  did  honour  to  the  artist  as  well  as  to  those  who  wrote  it. 

The  following  address  was.  presented  by  the  delegates 
of  the  workmen  to  Gottschalk,  the  next  day  after  the 
concert : — 

Monsieur  :  P^»'8»  22  Avril,  1850. 

Nous  venons,  au  nom  de  nos  camarades,  vous  offrir  le  tribut  de  notre  re- 
connaissance pour  la  sympathie  que  vous  avez  montree  pour  le  malheur 

4* 


42  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

qui  a  pa  atteindre  certains  d'entre  nous  par  une  cessation  momentan^e  de 
travail  occasionee  par  Tincendie,  et  vous  prier  de  croire  que  notre  profonde 
gratitude  est  pour  toujours  gravee  dans  nos  cceurs.  Elle  se  confond  pour 
nous  delegues  qui  avons  assists  ^  la  belle  soiree  d'hier,  et  qui  avons  eu  le 
bonheur  de  vous  entendre  avec  la  plus  vive  admiration  pour  votre  talent 
si  justement  celebre  ;  et,  c'est  pleins  des  sentiments  qui  nous  iuspirent  et 
votre  genereuse  action,  et  le  plaisir  de  voir  les  arts  venir  ainsi  en  aide  h. 
I'industrie,  que  nous  vous  demandons  d'accueillir  les  remerciements  les 
plus  sinceres  de 
Vos  tr^s  humbles  et  obeissants  servlteurs, 

William  Dokoghoe, 
*  Lefebrb, 

Gdillot, 
Crepion, 
D^legu^s  des  ouvriers  de  la  portion  des  ateliers  de 
^  M.  Pleyel  &  Co.  qui  a  6te  iucendi^e  le  25  Mars.  1850. 

A  Monsieur  Gtottschalk. 

(  Trandaiion.) 

Paris,  22  April,  1850. 
Sir: 

We  come,  in  the  name  of  our  comrades,  to  offer  you  the  tribute  of  our 
gratitude,  for  the  sympathy  which  you  have  shown  for  the  misfortunes 
which  certain  among  us  have  experienced  from  the  temporary  cessation  of 
labour  occasioned  by  the  fire,  and  to  beg  you  to  believe  that  our  profound 
gratitude  is  forever  engraven  upon  our  hearts.  For  us  delegates,  who 
were  present  at  the  beautiful  soiree  of  yesterday,  and  who  have  had  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  you,  it  is  mingled  with  the  liveliest  admiration  for 
your  talent  so  justly  celebrated  ;  and  it  is,  overflowing  with  the  sentiments 
with  which  you  and  your  generous  action  inspire  us,  and  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  the  arts  thus  coming  to  the  assistance  of  industry,  that  we  ask  you 
to  receive  the  sincerest  thanks  of 
Your  very  humble  and  obedient  servants, 

William  Donoghoe, 
Lefebre, 

GUILLOT, 

Crepion, 
Delegates  from  the  workmen  of  the  workshops  of 
Messrs.  Pleyel  &  Co.  which  were  burned  down 
March  25,  1850. 

To  Mr.  GOTTSCHALK. 


CHAPTER  V. 


At  this  period  a  strong  friendship  sprung  up  between 
Gottschalk  and  the  noble,  intelligent,  and  good  Mr.  Pleyel, 
whose  influence  had  greater  value  in  the  eyes  of  the  young 
man  than  the  applause  of  the  most  select  audience.    It  was 


THE  BUND  CRITIC.  43 

charming  to  see  these  two  men,  one  of  them  just  entering 
upon  life,  the  other  near  the  moment  of  leaving  it,  so 
closely  united:  the  younger  listening,  with  interest  and  ad- 
miration, to  the  elevated  conversation  of  the  man  of  genius, 
who  had  been  so  much  afflicted.  Mr.  Erard  had  fre- 
quently proposed  to  Gottschalk  the  playing  of  his  pianos. 
Eut  although  he  admired  the  mechanism  and  brilliancy  of 
the  instruments  made  by  this  celebrated  manufacturer,  Gott- 
schalk remained  faithful  to  those  of  Pleyel,  which  had 
taken  their  sweetness  and  freedom,  added  to  force  of  char- 
acter, from  him  who  had  in  some  sort  breathed  into  them 
the  breath  of  life. 

But  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  success  of  Gott- 
schalk did  not  in  some  minds  inspire  envy  and  suffgest 
adverse  criticism.  He  was  caricatured  by  'Cham,'  and  one 
critic,  who  laboured  under  the  misfortune  of  being  blind, 
made  more  than  one  disagreeable  remark  on  Gottschalk's 
ffiving  his  compositions  Creole  names ;  he  might  as  well, 
he  said,  "call  them  the  melon  and  apple-tree,  instead  of 
'  Bananier'  and '  Mancenillier,'  for  all  that  the  public  cared." 
He  had  even  been  so  rude  one  day  that  Gottschalk's  friends 
took  it  in  hand,  and  wished  to  call  him  to  account.  This, 
however,  Gottschalk  would  in  no  wise  permit,  and  the 
matter  dropped  for  some  time.  One  evening,  at  a  concert 
at  the  Hall  Bonne  Ifouvelle,  given  by  the  wonderful  little 
pianist  Tito  Mattel,  Gottschalk,  who  had  been  to  hear  him, 
on  coming  out  after  the  concert,  was  stopped  by  the  crowd 
on  the  top  of  the  stairs,  and  saw  at  his  elbow  his  blind  foe, 
who  was  vainly  endeavouring  to  secure  a  footing  to  g;et 
down.  Gottschalk,  without  being  recognized,  helped  liim 
down  to  the  door,  where  the  critic  met  with  his  assistant. 
Turning  round,  he  asked  to  whom  he  was  indebted  for  the 
kindness.  Gottschalk  simply  uttered  his  name,  and  left. 
From  that  day  he  counted  one  more  admirer,  and,  we  may 
say,  gained  one  more  friend. 

We  may  add  another  anecdote  as  further  displaying  his 
character.  One  evening,  by  invitation,  he  played  at  Lord 
Tudor's,  in  the  Champs  Elysees.  Coming  out  from  the 
party  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning — it  was  a  fine, 
balmy  summer  morning — ^he  had  proceeded  but  a  short 
distance  when  he  was  stopped  by  a  man  who  held  a  large 


44  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

club  in  his  hand,  with  the  sacramental  words  of  French 
robbers,  "  La  bourse  ou  la  vie."  Gottschalk  turned  round 
and  said,  "My  good  man,  I  have  very  little  in  my  pocket, 
but  you  are  welcome  to  it ;  I  will  ast  you  but  one  favour, 
however;  it  is  to  take  me  to  a  cab-stand."  The  man 
assented,  but  Gottschalk  desired  him  to  walk  in  front. 
The  man  turning  round,  and  looking  very  sad,  said,  "You 
need  not  fear;  you  did  not  resist,  and  I  am  a  novice  in  the 
trade,  driven  to  it  by  hunger."  "Why,"  said  G.,  "do 
you  mean  to  say  that  you  are  hungry?"  "Hungry!"  re- 
plied the  man,  "I  should  think  so;  I  had  nothing  to  eat 
yesterday,  and  I  have  a  family  at  home  like  myself,  for  I 
could  find  no  work  yesterday,  to  enable  me  to  purchase 
bread  for  them."  Gottschalk,  handing  him  his  purse,  said, 
"I  am  sorry,  my  good  man,  I  have  no  more  than  this," 
and  proceeded  until  he  reached  the  cab-stand. 

The  following  May  found  him  ready  to  leave  France  for 
Switzerland.  Many  friends,  among  others  a  Creole  family 
residing  at  Grandson,  had  for  a  long  time  invited  him  to 
come,  but  his  numerous  engagements  had  hitherto  pre- 
vented him  from  accepting  their  invitation.  Finally,  in 
May,  his  mother  represented  to  him  how  beneficial  it  would 
be  for  his  health  to  absent  himself  for  some  time  from 
Paris,  and  he  yielded. 

The  da^  preceding  his  departure,  Mr.  Leon  Escudier 
came  to  him  for  the  purpose  of  purchasing  a  piece  of  his 
composition ;  but  how  to  come  to  terms?  for,  as  the  proverb 
says,  perhaps  vulgarly  when  applied  to  this  circumstance, 
"  in  order  to  cook  your  hare  you  must  first  catch  it."  Gott- 
schalk had  nothing  ready.  The  publisher  was  not  willing 
to  take  a  refusal;  he  must  have  a  piece.  "  I  will  give  you 
500  francs  if  you  will  compose  me  one."  At  last  Gott- 
schalk consented,  and,  between  midnight  and  five  o'clock 
the  next  morning,  composed  a  reverie,  a  veritable  bijou, 
on  '  C'est  un  songe  qui  s'acheve,'  taken  from  the  opera  of 
Ambroise  Thomas's  'Le  songe  d'une  nuit  d'ete,'  which 
was  written  and  ready  to  be  given  to  Mr.  Escudier,  who 
called  punctually  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  to  get  it, 
two  hours  after  Gottschalk  had  left. 

This  journey  had  almost  proved  fatal  to  the  young  artist, 
for,  whether  owing  to  fatigue  or  to  the  humidity  of  the 


CONCERT  FOR  THE  POOR.  45 

place,  he  was  seized  with  a  putrid  fever  at  Les  Rousses,  and 
was  obliged  to  send  for  his  friends,  who  came  immediately, 
and  it  was  not  until  six  weeks  afterwards  that  he  was  in  a 
fit  condition  to  be  transported  by  them  to  Grandson.    Miss 

M.  D ,  on  his  arrival,  bestowed  upon  him  the  care 

of  a  sister.  After  he  had  recovered  sufficiently  he  set  out 
for  Geneva,  from  which  place  delegations  had  been  sent  to 
him,  inviting  him  to  play.  Everywhere  he  was  greeted 
with  the  greatest  applause  and  admiration.  Ifotwithstand- 
ing,  however,  the  honours  which  awaited  him,  he  never 
appears  to  have  become  vainglorious,  or  to  have  been  car- 
ried away  by  the  adulations  which  surrounded  him  on  all 
sides.  It  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  traits  in  his  cha- 
racter that  he  never  forgot  the  poor  and  the  suffering ;  his 
hand  was  ever  open  to  their  wants,  and  his  talents  were 
always  at  their  disposal.  At  Geneva,  he  gave  concerts  for 
the  poor,  and  at  Yverdon  one  for  the  benefit  of  a  hospital 
for  the  aged,  which  enabled  them  to  add  another  wing  to 
the  building,  to  which  wing  they  gave  the  name  of  Gott- 
schalk — which  it  still  bears. 

At  the  period  of  this  visit,  Gottschalk  was  only  twenty- 
one.  As  displaying  his  progress  in  art,  and  the  reputation 
which  he  had  achieved,  we  prefer  tb  give  some  contempo- 
raneous criticisms  which  marked  the  appreciation  of  his 
style,  talents,  and  genius  as  artist  and  composer.  We  select 
only  those  which  were  written  by  acknowledged  authori- 
ties in  musical  science. 

{From  La  France  Mttsicale,  18  August,  1850.) 

Gottschalk  had  no  other  reason  for  going  to  Switzerland  than  to  seek 
rest,  far  from  the  world,  and  above  all  from  Paris,  that  great  city.  He 
has  arrived  in  the  canton  de  Vaud,  and  will  remain  there  for  some  days, 
silent  and  unknown,  in  the  midst  of  a  friend's  family,  happy  to  have  him. 
But  notwithstanding  he  had  taken  every  possible  precaution  to  escape 
from  the  cares  of  celebrity,  his  name  quickly  escaped  from  the  valley  in 
which  he  was  resting  on  all  its  echoes,  and  deputation  after  deputation 
has  been  sent  to  him  from  Geneva  inviting  him  to  come  there  that  he  may 
be  heard  at  least  once.  The  celebrated  pianist  resisted  as  far  as  he  could 
all  the  seductions  of  which  he  has  been  the  object.  For  nearly  a  month 
he  alleged  the  suffering  state  in  which  he  found  himself  since  his  arrival ; 
his  strength  was  enfeebled ;  his  chest,  owing  to  the  coolness  of  the  climate, 
experienced  a  difficulty  of  respiration,  in  one  word,  he  dragged  himself 
along  rather  than  walked.  Thanks  to  God,  and  to  the  great  care  bestowed 
upon  him,  Gottschalk  has  regained  his  health  and  strength  ;  but,  as  all  is 


46  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

pain  and  misfortune  in  this  world,  it  has  not  been  possible  for  him  to 
escape  from  the  concert  solicited  from  him  by  the  thousand  requests  of  the 
Genevese. 

The  grand  duchess,  sister-in-law  of  the  Emperor  Nicholas,  as  well  as  her 
daughter  the  Princess  Weimar,  and  their  suite,  were  present  at  the  concert. 
They  had  forewarned  Gottschalk,  who  had  reserved  for  them  in  the  first 
row  of  seats  cushions  and  divans  of  red  velvet.  In  the  middle  of  the  soiree, 
the  grand  duchess  requested,  through  her  chamberlain,  Mr.  le  Baron  de 
Vauthier,  to  felicitate  him,  and  as  the  artist,  whose  modesty  is  equal  to 
his  talent,  bowed  his  thanks,  her  imperial  highness  took  him  by  the  han  I 
and  made  him  promise  to  give  a  second  concert  at  Geneva.  From  thence 
Gottschalk  will  go  to  Aix,  in  Savoy,  and  probably  afterwards  to  Lyons, 
and  will  return  from  thence  to  Paris,  to  pass  the  winter  season. 

L.  ESCUDIEB. 

{From  the  Nouvelliste  Vaudoisj  Geneva,  26  October,  1850.) 

The  gift  of  universality,  such  as  is  manifested  among  some  chosen  artists, 
is  a  rare  gift.  The  domain  of  Art  is  so  immense  that  to  embrace  it  in  its 
entirety,  to  be  perfect  in  each  of  its  branches,  is  a  thing  so  phenomenal, 
that  one  can  understand  why  men  of  talent  take  up  a  specialty. 

Under  this  title,  we  must  consider  the  talent  of  Mr.  Gottschalk,  the 
young  and  celebrated  American  pianist,  as  a  musical  event.  Go  see  him 
before  his  Erard  piano,  which  is,  parenthetically,  the  grandest  and  most 
formidable  which  has  issued  from  these  famous  workshops,  and  which 
Erard  has  presented  to  him  1  He  will  play  for  you  the  nocturne  with  its 
mysterious  ways,  the  caprice  with  its  eccentric  bonds,  the  melody  sadly 
insinuating,  as  Chopin  or  our  friend  Bovy-Lysberg  might  play  it;  ask 
him  for  the  concert-stuck  of  Weber,  the  profound  sonata  in  /  minor  of 
Beethoven,  or  a  fugue  of  Bach,  the  metaphysician  of  Art,  and  he  will  play 
them  in  such  a  manner  that  our  learned  and  celebrated  professor,  Mr. 
Pierre  WolflF,  so  competent  a  judge,  shall  salute  him  with  the  title  of  grand 
artist. 

Grand  artist  truly,  who  knows  no  difficulty  on  his  instrument,  and  whose 
playing  recalls  that  of  Liszt  or  Thalberg ;  who  will  touch  you  to  tears  in 
relating  to  you  on  his  piano  some  dreamy  legend  of  his  distant  country, 
the  *  Bananier,'  the  *  Savane,'  or  in  making  you  behold  the  African  splen- 
dors of  the  *  Bamboula,'  that  negro  dance. 

En  r^sum^,  marvellous  composer  and  pianist,  the  meteor  of  last  winter's 
season  at  Paris,  fondled  and  feted  everywhere.  Mr.  Gottschalk  is  twenty 
years  of  age.  J.  E.     (Julius  Eichberg.) 

{From  La  France  Musicale,  27  October,  1850.) 
GOTTSCHALK  IN  SWITZERLAND. 

Gottschalk  has  not  as  yet  left  Switzerland.  The  sojourn  of  the  cele- 
brated artist  in  this  country  has  been  a  series  of  triumphs  and  festivals. 
There  is  perhaps  no  example  of  a  reception  as  enthusiastic  as  that  which 
he  has  received  in  the  different  cities  in  which  he  has  been  heard.  But 
it  is  particularly  in  Geneva  that  his  admirable  talent  has  found  appre- 
ciation worthy  of  him.  After  his  concert  for  the  poor  the  Grand  Duchess 
of  Weimar  had  him  called  by  her  chamberlain  to  invite  him  to  visit  her 


CRITICISMS.  47 

the  next  day.  At  noon  the  carriage  of  the  grand  duchess  was  at  the 
door  of  the  hotel  where  the  artist  was,  and  at  one  he  entered  the  salon  of 
her  Highness.  She  was  in  great  company,  with  her  ladies  of  honour  and 
the  Priucestfes  Wolkousey  and  Soukoyanet.  The  grand  duchess  conversed 
a  long  time  with  Gottschalk,  a  grand  collation  was  afterwards  served  up. 
At  the  request  of  the  grand  duchess,  Gottschalk  placed  himself  at  the 
piano,  and  all  the  pieces  he  played  caused  him  to  receive  reiterattnl  felicita- 
tions.  The  grand  duchess  afterwards  presented  him,  with  charming  grace, 
a  little  jewel-case,  saying  to  him,  **  This  is  not  a  testimony  of  my  admira- 
tion, but  simply  a  souvenir ;  let  it  sometimes  recall  to  you  a  person  whom 
you  have  inspired  with  the  greatest  interest  I"  The  box  inclosed  a  mag- 
nificent breast-pin,  formed  by  an  enormous  pearl  and  diamonds  from  the 
jewel-box  of  her  Highness. 

A  few  days  since,  Gottschalk  was  presented  to  the  Queen  of  Sardinia, 
who  conversed  at  length  with  him. 

Marie  Escddibr. 

(^Fram  the  FeuUleton  de  la  Gazette  de  Lausanne^  28  November ,  1850.) 
CONCERTS  OF  MR.  GOTTSCHALK — AN  ARTIST'S  IMPRESSIONS. 

To  THE  EdiTOB  of  THE  GAZETTE  DE  LaUSANNE  : 

Many  friends  having  manifested  a  desire  to  know  the  opinion  of  an 
artist  grown  gray  under  the  harness,  and  being  willing  to  acknowledge 
my  old  musical  experience,  will  you,  Mr.  Editor,  permit  me  to  communi- 
cate to  you  the  impression  which  the  talent  of  our  young  and  already  so 
celebrated  artist  has  produced  upon  me  ? 

Behold  this  full  hall !  how  many  persons  have  not  mentally  exclaimed  : 
''  It  is  a  piano,  and  he  is  nothing  but  a  pianist !"  that  is  true  ;  but  it  is  a 
piano  from  the  manufactory  of  Erard,  known  in  the  musical  world  as  the 
best  manufacturer. 

As  for  the  pianist,  Mr.  Gottschalk  offers  an  interesting  study  to  physiog- 
nomists. When  the  crowd  has  assembled,  restless  and  on  the  watch,  they 
see  a  young  man  appear  with  an  interesting  countenance,  a  tournure 
rather  gentlemanlike,  very  pale,  his  eyes  cast  down.  His  physiognomy 
expresses  melancholy,  and  there  is  in  all  his  features  a  trace  of  pain  and 
sadness. 

At  the  first  sounds,  even  at  the  first  piece,  the  audience  remains  unde- 
cided, and  it  is  only  the  gena  de  Vart  who  from  the  first  recognize  a 
superior  talent. 

Have  a  moment's  patience !  these  touches,  so  cold,  so  insensible,  you 
are  about  to  hear  become  animated,  to  weep,  to  sing,  before  you  ;  there  is 
the  pianist  who  is  about  to  realize  this  prodigy ;  you  at  first  listen  with 
doubt,  but  little  by  little  your  ear  becomes  habituated  to  this  tender  and 
plaintive  accent ;  you  cannot  detach  yourself  from  it,  you  are  conjured 
unknown  to  yourself,  you  yield  to  a  supernatural  force  ;  and  the  artist  ? 
behold  how  his  look  becomes  animated,  and  how  his  pale  tint  becomes  lit- 
tle by  little  coloured  1  how  his  features  express  the  sufferings  of  his  soul ; 
how  noble  his  head  is  and  how  all  his  body  seems  to  grow  larger  ;  it  is  an 
attraction  without  example,  you  do  not  dream  of  analyzing  your  sensa- 
tions ;  you  ask  if  it  is  music,  you  applaud,  you  cry  bravo  with  all  your 
might,  but  without  premeditation,  for  it  is  a  spontaneous  expression,  in- 
stinctive of  astonishment  and  admiration  (we,  personally,  had  not  even 


48  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

the  courage  to  applaud).  One  might  essay  in  vain  to  express  the  mar- 
vellous facility  with  which  Gottschalk  makes  his  instrument  vibrate,  one 
can  hardly  follow  his  hands  in  their  rapid  course  ;  the/orfc,  the  piano,  the 
trilh  carried  to  the  highest  degree  of  perfection,  all  the  shades,  all  the 
inflections  of  human  sensations,  he  renders  them  all  with  precision  and 
exquisite  delicacy. 

Play,  light  and  graceful,  variations,  melody  large ;  as  for  difficulties  he  is 
not  aware  of  them  ;  it  is  useless  to  add  that  he  excels  in  classical  music. 

His  instrument  is  always  ready  to  express  a  tender  and  painful  senti- 
ment ;  in  the  high  keys  it  has  a  metallic  timbre  between  a  bell  and  glass, 
but  with  much  more  sweetness  and  less  shrillness  ;  one  could  not  imagine 
anything  more  delicious,  more  flexible,  more  penetrating,  more  incisivt  1 
touched,  manie,  ^eure  with  more  art. 

To  analyze  all  the  pieces  which  he  has  played  to  us  would  carry  us  too 
far  ;  the  only  thing  one  could  say  would  be,  what  Voltaire  placed  at  the 
foot  of  every  page  of  Racine. 

But  above  all  it  is  necessary  to  hear  him  when  he  plays  for  us  his 
chants  of  the  new  world,  chants  which  bring  tears  to  our  eyes,  so  much 
do  they  breathe  of  sadness  and  simplicity. 

One  transports  us  to  forests,  peopled  with  rare  trees  which  invite  us 
to  pluck  and  taste  their  fruits  ;  another  represents  faithfully  the  indolent 
Creole,  swinging  gently  in  his  hammock,  while  listening  to  his  little  one 
singing  again  his  song  of  another  hemisphere  ;  and  what  shall  we  say  of 
the  third  ?  does  it  not  seem  to  be  overwhelmed  by  that  solemn  silence  and 
that  solitude  which  one  feels  in  traversing  those  vast  prairies  at  the  foot 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains  ? 

Gottschalk,  full-handed,  spends  his  life  in  animating  and  charming  that 
public  which  remains  in  ecstasy  at  every  piece,  and  while  he  is  far  from 
the  eyes  of  this  same  public  he  must  be  seen  as  we  have  seen  him,  restless, 
disquieted,  not  able  to  be  still  for  a  moment,  and  when  he  returns  to  charm 
our  ears  anew,  we  see  this  young  man  tranquil  as  at  first.  And  if  we  again 
reflect,  that  every  sound  which  he  causes  to  vibrate  tears  one  hour  from 
his  frail  and  nervous  existence He  finds,  it  is  true,  his  recom- 
pense in  the  consciousness  of  his  talent  and  in  that  noble  pride  without 
which  there  can  be  no  great  artists. 

But  do  not  deem  that  ambition  is  alone  his  sole  dream  in  this  world ; 
no,  amidst  the  intoxication  of  bravos  and  of  gold,  his  thoughts  turn  to- 
ward his  family,  and  he  thinks  of  his  mother,  his  brothers,  and  his  sisters, 
who  are  expecting  and  wishing  for  his  return. 

That  God  may  watch  over  him  for  the  numerous  admirers  of  his  talents 
(for  every  place  where  he  has  been  and  wherever  he  shall  go,  they 
will  always  be  numerous  and  unanimous),  for  his  friends  who  will  be 
able  to  appreciate  the  amenity  of  his  amiable  character  and  the  general 
knowledge  which  he  possesses,  and  above  all  that  He  will  watch  over  him 
for  the  sake  of  his  mother  and  her  young  family,  in  which  he  takes  the 
place  of  a  father — this  is  the  very  sincere  wish  which  his  admirer  and 
friend  has  for  him.  Ch.  Schbiwaneck. 

The  following  is  extracted  from  an  article,  dated  Lau- 
sanne, 29  October,  1850,  from  Mr.  Witterson,  a  corre- 
spondent of '  La  France  Musicale,'  of  Paris,  which  appeared 
in  that  journal  under  date  of  10  November,  1850. 


criticisms:  49 

Three  hours  before  the  opening  of  the  doors,  the  hall  had  been  taken 
as  if  by  assault.  At  half-past  seven  they  were  obliged  to  improvise  seats 
on  the  orchestra,  the  hall  not  being  sufficiently  largo  to  contain  the  crowd. 
,  At  three  o'clock  the  steamer  had  brought  a  great  number  of  persons  from 
Merges,  Vevay,  Nyon,  and  even  from  Rolles,  ten  leagues  from  Lausanne. 
The  public  conveyances  which  arrived  in  the  morning  were  full  of  dilettanti 
from  Iverdon  and  Grandson. 

A  t'entendre  Oottschalk,  on  passoraU  la  yle ; 

Par  de  puissanta  accords  ta  aais  noas  enchanter ; 

Bans  nn  monde  ld6al,  par  ta  douce  magie, 

En  ravUsant  nos  coeurs  ta  sals  nons  transporter ; 

Mais  si  le  monde  entler  t'a  decorn6  la  glolre, 

Et  si  ton  Jeune  front  a  re<2a  le  lanrior, 

Un  plus  doux  sonyenir  s'attache  k  ta  m6molre 

Tu  sas  icl  te  faire  aimer. 

(^From  the  Courier  Suisse,  Ldiusanne,  20  December,  1850.) 

Mr.  Gottschalk  gave  at  Yverdon,  on  the  17th  inst,,  a  second  concert 
which  was  received  with  the  same  enthusiasm.  As  an  artist,  he  leaves 
us  a  unique  and  ineffable  remembrance ;  as  a  man,  he  has  gained  our 
hearts.  No  words  are  sufficiently  powerful  to  express  to  him  our  pro- 
found sentiments  of  sympathy,  gratitude,  and  admiration. 

(^From  the  Feuilleton  du  Siicle,  Paris,  1  November,  1850.) 

The  American  pianist,  Gottschalk,  has  very  recently  obtained  in  Switzer- 
land one  of  those  successes  which  one  may,  notwithstanding  la  banaliie  of 
the  formula,  qualify  as  difficult  to  describe.  Jenny  Lind  has  almost  been 
surpassed,  for  we  have  never  heard  that  she  was  carried  oflF  bodily;  This 
accident  has  happened,  it  is  said,  to  Gottschalk.  A  young,  pretty,  and 
robust  Genevese  girl  waited  for  him  at  the  coming  out  of  the  concert,  where 
the  pianist  had  been  covered  with  flowers,  and  enveloping  him  all  at  once 
in  a  large  mantle  took  him  in  her  arms  and  carried  him  off,  which  the 
frail  and  delicate  nature  of  her  victim  permitted  her  to  do  easily,  to  the 
general  consternation.  We  do  not  know  if  this  be  true ;  we  tell  it  as  it 
was  told.  What  is  certain  is,  that  the  young  pianist  precipitately  left 
Geneva  after  having  been  the  delight  of  the  elegant  society  there,  by 
playing  with  charming  grace  his  favorite  compositions,  'Bamboula,'  *  la 
Savane,'  ^  le  Bananier,'  and  his  caprice  on  *  le  Songe  d'une  nuit  d'6te.' 

OSCAB  COMMETTANT. 

At  the  conclusion  of  his  concerts,  his  friends  at  Grand- 
son being  anxious  to  have  him,  he  finally  concluded  to 
pass  the  rest  of  his  time  at  the  old  chateau  they  inhabited, 
which  was  celebrated  for  a  siege  it  had  sustained,  and  at 
which  '  Charles  le  Tem6raire'  was  killed.  His  visit  being 
completed,  he  returned  to  Paris,  where  shortly  after  his 
arrival  he  received  an  invitation  from  the  Queen  of  Spain, 
who  was  desirous  to  hear  him  play '  Le  Bamboula,'  which 
he  had  dedicated  to  her. 

On  the  12th  of  January,  1851,  Mr.  L.  Escudier,  in  an 
5 


50  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

article  in  'La  France  Musicale/ entitled  *  Return  of  Gott- 
schalk  to  Paris,'  writes  as  follows: — 

Gottsclialk  has  given  five  concerts  at  Geneva,  three  at  Lausanne,  one 
at  Vevay,  two  at  Yverdon,  two  at  Neufch&tel.  He  has  played  more  than 
fifty  times  in  concerts,  and  every  time  he  has  been,  so  to  say,  carried  oflf 
in  triumph.  The  poor  have  had  their  good  portion  in  the  proceeds  of  these 
brilliant  fetes.  Gottschalk  unites  a  generous  soul  to  an  imagination  rich 
in  poesy.  At  Yverdon,  the  proceeds  of  his  concert,  which  were  consider- 
able, have  served  for  the  foundation  of  an  asylum  for  the  aged ;  one  wing 
of  this  asylum  bears  to-day  the  name  of  Gottschalk.  A  banquet  was  also 
presented  to  him  at  Lausanne.  At  Neufch^tel,  a  ball  was  organized  in 
his  honour.  Besides,  at  Yverdon,  the  students  of  the  college  presented  to 
him  a  collection  of  the  works  of  the  celebrated  writers  of  -Switzerland.  At 
Lausanne,  they  decreed  to  him  in  public  session  the  medal  of  honorary 
corresponding  member.  I  should  never  finish  if  I  were  to  enumerate  all 
the  ovations  which  have  marked  in  Switzerland  the  appearance  of  this 
eminent  artist.  He  has  carried  away  enough  crowns,  flowers,  and  wreaths 
to  carpet  a  whole  concert  hall.  You  see  that  we  had  good  reason  for  writ- 
ing the  first  day  we  heard  Gottschalk,  that  he  was  advancing  at  a  rapid 
pace  towards  glory  and  fortune. 

Gottschalk  remains  only  a  few  days  in  Paris ;  he  is  expected  in 
Spain. 

His  reputation  as  an  artist  and  composer  at  this  period 
may  be  judged  of  by  the  following  criticism  from  the  pen  of 
Mr.  H.  Berlioz,  the  great  composer  and  first  critic  of  Europe, 
extracted  from  the  'I^euilleton  du  Journal  des  Debats,'  Paris, 
13  April,  1851. 

Twenty  years  ago  they  said,  "  Who  is  there  who  does  not  play  a  little 
on  the  piano  ?"  They  now  must  say,  **  Who  is  there  who  does  not  play  on  it 
very  well  ?"  It  thus  requires,  in  order  that  a  true  artist  on  the  piano  should 
attract  to-day  upon  him  the  attention  of  a  public  like  that  of  Paris,  for  him 
to  please,  charm,  move,  and  carry  his  audience  along  with  him ;  and  for  him 
to  have  an  audience  it  requires  absolutely  that  he  should  join  to  exceptional 
musical  qualities  an  elevated  intelligence,  an  exquisite  feeling  for  the 
subtleties  of  style  and  of  expression,  and  a  facility  of  mechanism  carried 
to  the  highest  extreme.  If  he  possesses  only  this  last  merit,  he  astonishes 
for  an  instant,  then  they  are  tired  of  him.  If,  on  the  contrary,  he  pos- 
sesses only  the  other  merits,  he  is  ranked  in  the  category  of  common- 
place artists  whom  one  seeks  and  loves  in  a  small  company,  but  who  re- 
main powerless  to  excite  the  great  public  who  frequent  concerts. 

Mr.  Gottschalk  is  one  of  the  very  small  number  of  those  who  possess 
all  the  different  elements  of  the  sovereign  power  of  the  pianist,  all  the 
attributes  which  environ  him  with  an  irresistible  prestige.  He  is  an  ac- 
complished musician.  He  knows  how  far  one  may  carry  fancy  in  expres- 
sion, he  knows  the  limit  beyond  which  the  liberties  taken  with  rhythm 
lead  only  to  disorder  and  confusion,  and  this  limit  he  never  transcends. 
Hehias  aperfect  gxace  in  his  manner  of  expressing  sweet  melodies  and  of 


CRITICISMS.  51 

scattering  the  light  passages  from  the  top  of  the  key -hoard.  As  to  pres- 
tesse,  fugue,  eclat,  brio,  originality,  his  playing  strikes  from  the  first, 
dazzles,  astonishes  ;  and  the  infantine  simplicity  of  his  smiling  caprices, 
the  charming  ease  with  which  he  renders  simple  things,  seem  to  belong 
to  a  second  individuality,  distinct  from  that  which  characterizes  his 
thundering  energies.  The  success,  also,  of  Mr.  Gottschalk  when  he 
is  in  the  presence  of  a  civilized  musical  audience,  is  immense.  There  is 
applause,  transport,  which,  far  from  causing  one  to  feel  that  vexatious 
irritation  caused  by  factitious,  exaggerated,  or  ridiculous  enthusiasm,  of 
which  we  so  often  have  the  spectacle,  one  is  happy  to  see  and  hear.  At 
the  concert  which  he  gave  last  month  in  the  Hall  Bonne  Nouvelle,  the 
greater  part  of  his  pieces  were  encored.  Further,  Mr.  Gottschalk,  on  that 
evening,  merited  a  eulogy  superior  to  those  which  I  have  already  given 
to  him ;  he  executed  in  the  most  masterly  manner  the  sonata  in  a  of 
Beethoven,  the  style  and  form  of  which  do  not  approach  in  any  way 
the  style  or  familiar  forms  of  real  piano  music.  It  is  impossible  to  play 
better  the  andante,  to  give  more  relief  to  the  thousand  arabesques  of  the 
variations,  and  to  better  direct  the  last  course  of  the  finale  without  letting 
it  lose  anything  of  its  continual  and  vertiginous  ardour. 

Besides,  to  appreciate,  as  they  should  be,  talents  of  this  nature  re- 
quires special  critics — as  is  done  by  Liszt  in  his  admirable  study  just 
published  in  the  journal  '  La  Musique/  on  Chopin. 

{From  the  F&iilleton  de  VAssembUe  Nationale,  Paris,  29  April ,  1851.) 

Immediately  after  the  solemnities  of  Easter,  the  series  of  mundane 
concerts  recommenced  with  more  fury  than  ever.  Mr.  Gottschalk  has 
given  at  Pleyel's  a  soir6e  for  the  benefit  of  the  workmen  who  had  sustained 
losses  owing  to  the  fire.  Never  was  the  reputation  and  vogue  of  an  artist 
so  promptly  and  generally  established  as  that  which  Mr.  Gottschalk  enjoys 
to-day.  And,  nevertheless,  there  have  been  neither  pompous  pufl*s  nor 
any  sort  of  charlatanism.  Mr.  Gottschalk  was  born  at  New  Orleans,  and 
came  to  Paris  to  finish  his  studies.  He  received  lessons  on  the  piano  from 
that  excellent  professor,  Mr.  Stamaty,  and  studied  harmony  and  com- 
position with  an  able  theorist,  Mr.  Maleden.  All  these  labours  were, 
however,  only  those  of  an  amateur ;  but,  unknown  to  himself,  the  ama- 
teur was  already  an  artist,  a  great  artist.  The  memories  of  childhood 
recalled  to  him  the  negro  airs  to  which  he  had  been  nursed,  he  translated 
them  upon  his  key-board,  and  we  have  the  *  Bananier,'  the  '  Bamboula,'  the 
*Mancenillier,'  and  those  charming  and  simple  melodies  which  art  and 
science  extract  in  the  most  distinguished  way.  Mr.  Gottschalk  has  be- 
come the  man  k  la  mode,  the  indispensable  pianist.  But  the  public  who 
idolize  him  are  unmerciful  to  him.  When  Mr.  Gottschalk  has  played  a 
piece,  they  cry  bis  ;*  through  excess  of  courtesy  the  young  pianist  plays  a 
new  one,  the  audience,  more  and  more  enchanted,  again  demand  bis,  the 
performer  plays  again  a  new  piece,  which  they  again  wish  to  hear  re- 
peated, and  it  would  not  be  right  because  their  demand  would  not  stop 
before  the  inexhaustible  complaisance  of  the  author.  We  have  seen  this 
exchange  take  place  four  or  five  times  in  succession. 

Mr.  Gottschalk  has  all  the  grace  and  charm  of  Chopin,  with  more  de- 
cided character ;  less  magisterial  than  Thalberg,  he  has,  perhaps,  more 
warmth  ;  less  severe  than  Prudent,  he  has  more  grace  and  elegance.  And 
then,  all  his  pieces  are  very  short,  and  a  great  way  always  to  please  is 
not  to  wish  to  play  too  long.  Ad.  Adam  (de  I'Institut). 


52  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


gottschalk's  soiree. 

Were  w^  not  right  a  year  ago  in  proclaiming  the  superior  talent  of  Gott- 
schalk  :  *  *  A  great  artist  is  about  to  reveal  himself ;  he  carries  with  him 
novelty  in  thtj  art  of  composition  and  in  execution.  He  will  be,  before 
long,  one  of  the  most  brilliant  stars  in  the  modern  school  of  the  piano." 

And  truly  Gottschalk  has  marched  with  the  step  of  a  giant.  In  one 
year,  his  success  in  the  salon  and  concert-room  has  gained  him  the  sym- 
pathy and  admiration  of  the  public  and  of  artists.  To-day  he  stands  in 
the  first  rank  ;  his  name  has  become  popular,  his  works  are  awaited  with 
impatience,  and  received  with  the  greatest  pleasure.  What  is  wonderful  to 
remark  is,  that  as  much  through  his  character  as  his  talent  the  young  and 
already  celebrated  pianist  exerts  an  influence  over  musicians,  composers, 
and  players,  and  that  all  jealousy  vanishes  before  his  incontestable  supe- 
riority. 

The  other  evening  Gottschalk  had  carried  the  crowd  to  Erard's  Hall 
(Salle  Erard),  all  the  French  and  foreign  pianists  accompanied  them; 
those  who  did  not  yet  know  the  new  artist  came  to  see  if  they  had  not 
beaten  the  base  drum  for  a  charlatan,  as  it  unfortunately  happens  too  often 
undep  the  starry  sky  of  music  ;  these  were  perhaps  the  most  enthusiastic. 

Gottschalk  afterwards  played  *  Bananier , '  one  of  the  most  delicious  pieces 
of  imagination  one  could  listen  to  ;  it  might  have  been  said  that  a  shower 
of  pearls  escaped  melodiously  from  the  key-board.  The  eflFect  of  *  Bananier' 
was  electrical,  every  one  clapped  his  hands  for  five  minutes,  and  Gott- 
schalk was  obliged  to  recommence  his  piece  amid  the  most  enthusiastic 
applause.  Then  he  played  his  charming  ballads,  *  Ossian,'  a  Mazurka,  *  la 
Savane,  *  *  le  Bamboula, '  and  the  *  Concerto  of  Weber. '  I  could  not  say  which 
of  these  they  most  applauded,  the  most  ffited.  What  I  affirm  is,  that  there 
was  but  one  voice  to  render  homage  to  the  suppleness,  the  elegance,  and  the 
originality  of  his  compositions .  *  Le  Bananier, '  *  le  Bamboula, '  *  la  Savane, ' 
and  *  Ossian'  are  pieces  of  a  wholly  new  character,  which  hold  you  con- 
stantly under  their  charm.  Gottschalk  reseinbles  no  one  ;  he  is  a  pianist 
who  has  the  prime  merit  of  copying  no  other  composer.  His  inspirations, 
simple,  touching,  and  of  exquisite  distinction,  strike  you,  and  his  playing 
dazzles  you.  Yes,  it  is  an  individuality  which  will  leave  its  mark,  we 
affirm  it,  in  the  art  of  the  piano,  by  the  form  as  by  the  structure.  This 
soiree  has  been  decisive,  I  will  even  say  triumphal.  Escudieb. 

During  the  winter  at  Paris  he  gave  several  concerts,  all 
of  which  seemed  to  increase  his  reputation  as  an  artist  and 
a  man.    We  take  the  following — 

{^From  the  Feuilleton  du  Corsaire,  Paris j  16  March,  1851.) 

But  Gottschalk  was  the  great  surprise  and  attraction  of  the  evening. 
It  would  be  impossible  to  tell  you  the  enthusiasm  which  he  excited  at 
this  reunion,  formerly  so  icy  and  mute.  Among  other  merits,  Gottschalk's 
compositions  have  that  of  being  very  short.  As  soon  as  the  pianist  has 
fiiiished  they  cry  encore,  and  he  begins  again  with  perfect  grace ;  or,  if 
the  inspiration  commands  him,  instead  of  repeating  the  last  melody,  which 
tiies  away  on  light  wings,  he  gives  a  new  piece,  more  charming  than  the 


CRITICISMS.  53 

first.  The  audience  again  cry  encore  with  all  their  power ;  thej  demand 
two  pieces  for  one.  Gottschalk  plays  a  third  for  them.  I  shall  notattmupt 
to  describe  a  talent  so  original)  poetic,  and  marvellous.  After  Gottschalk 
ilfaut  iirer  V^chelle.  P.  A.  Fiobestiso. 

(From  an  article  in  La  France  MusicaUf  PariSf  23  March,  1851.) 

Yes,  Gottschalk  was  last  Tuesday  admirable,  marvellous,  immense. 
Since  the  silence  of  Liszt,  I  do  not  know  a  more  worthy  name  than  his  to 
be  triumphantly  carried  into  the  world  of  art.  I  pity  those  who  were  not 
present  at  this  memorable  soiree  ;  to  them  one  does  not  know  how  to  give 
an  idea  of  the  unsurpassed  talent  of  Gottschalk.  Talent !  I  ought  to  say 
genius  ;  for  the  young  pianist  brings  into  the  world  so  encumbered  with 
pianist  composers  a  new  form  and  ideas  of  which  no  one  can  contest  the 
paternity  with  him.  Gottschalk  played  eight  pieces  ;  five  were  encored 
in  the  midst  of  applause,  which  burst  out  after  each  phrase  or  each  varia- 
tion, with  an  electrifying  effect. 

Gottschalk  is  now  upon  a  throne  ;  to  overthrow  him  would  require  more 
than  a  revolution  to  take  place  in  the  piano  and  among  pianists. 

Leon  Escudier. 

(From  an  article  in  Le  Charivari,  Paris,  March  22,  1851.) 

Above  all,  it  is  the  sentiment  which  seizes  me,  and  carries  me  along 
with  it  in  the  wonderful  execution  of  Mr.  Gottschalk.  The  most  intelli- 
gent and  most  inspired  orchestra  in  the  world  (even  if  it  was  the  Conser- 
vatoire's) could  not  interpret  the  rentr^e  of  the  *  Concerto'  of  Weber  better 
than  Gottschalk  did.  It  would  be  equally  difficult  to  render  the  great 
piece  of  Beethoven  with  more  warmth  and  force  than  he. 

Taxile  Delobd. 

The  following  is  by  Tlieophile  Gautier,  the  celebrated 
French  critic : — 

(From  FeuUleton  de  la  Presse,  Paris,  31  March,  1851.) 

An  originality,  marked  by  good  taste  and  a  little  eccentricity,  devoid 
of  charlatanism,  have  always  appeared  to  us  the  two  chief  qualities  in  an 
artist  of  true  talent ;  we  have  likewise  submitted  ourselves  unreservedly 
to  a  sentiment  of  sympathy  and  of  admiration  for  Mr.  Gottschalk  from  the 
first  time  that  we  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  him.  Among  our  popular 
pianists  to-day  there  are  but  few  who  have  known  how  to  create  for  them- 
selves an  incontestable  individuality.  Liszt,  Prudent,  and  Thalberg  are 
the  points  of  comparison  ordinarily  chosen  by  the  public  when  it  desires 
to  measure  the  value  of  their  imitators  or  of  their  followers  without 
knowing  it. 

It  is,  then,  more  difficult  than  one  might  think  to  depart  from  the  beaten 
track,  and  to  have  his  own  tent  placed  alongside  those  of  the  masters.  If 
Mr.  Gottschalk  has  been  able,  although  still  young,  to  acquire  this  indi- 
viduality which  escapes  so  many  others,  it  is  perhaps  owing  to  the  fact 
that,  after  having  formed  his  talent  by  solid  studies,  he  has  left  it  to 
wander  carelessly  in  the  fragrant  savannas  of  his  country,  from  which  he 
has  brought  back  to  us  the  colours  and  perfumes.    What  pleases  us  in 

5* 


54  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH, 

music,  as  in  all  other  things,  is  novelty ;  and  we  have  also  been  as  much 
charmed  by  the  melodious  ecrin  of  the  American  artist,  as  we  already 
have  been  by  the  chants  of  the  Muezzin,  and  the  reveries  under  the  palms 
which  Felicien  David  and  Ernest  Reyer  have  noted  with  their  souvenirs 
of  the  East. 

At  his  last  concert,  Gottschalk  had  the  applause  of  the  whole  hall. 
They  often  cried  encore,  and  the  young  artist  yielded  himself  without 
affectation,  and  with  the  most  perfect  courtesy,  to  the  demands  of  his 
audience. 


CHAPTER  VL 

Gottschalk  returned  from  Switzerland  in  October. 
Shortly  after  his  arrival  in  Paris  he  received  an  invitation 
from  the  Queen  of  Spain,  to  whom  he  had  dedicated  '  le 
Bamboula,'  to  visit  Madrid.  His  fame  as  an  artist  had 
reached  her  ears,  and  she  was  desirous  of  hearing  him. 
During  the  winter  he  gave  several  concerts  in  Paris.  At 
this  period  his  father  arrived  from  New  Orleans  on  a  visit 
to  his  family.  It  was  very  touching  to  see  the  pride  and 
happiness  of  the  father  at  beholdmg  the  success  of  his 
much  loved  son  for  whom  he  had  made  so  many  sacrifices. 
After  several  months  passed  together  Gottschalk  set  out 
for  Madrid  in  company  with  his  father,  who  traveled  with 
him  as  far  as  Bordeaux,  where  they  parted,  Gottschalk 
agreeing  to  meet  his  father  in  the  u  nited  States  the  fol- 
lowing spring.  The  newspapers  of  the  south  of  France  had 
all  heralded  his  coming,  and  he  was  welcomed  with  the 

freatest  enthusiasm.  After  leaving  Bordeaux  he  visited 
*au,  Tarbes,  Bayonne,  and  other  places  of  note.  His  fame 
had  preceded  him,  and  every  additional  concert  seemed  only 
to  increase  it.  Not  only  was  he  admired  as  an  artist  and 
composer,  but  as  a  philanthropist  and  as  one  of  the  most 
charitable  and  generous  of  men.  Concerts  were  given  for 
the  benefit  of  the  poor,  and  donations  made  to  hospitals. 

While  at  Bordeaux  Mgr.  Donnet,  Cardinal  Archbishop 
of  Bordeaux,  gave  him  a  grand  dinner,  at  which  many 
bishops  and  other  dignitaries  of  the  church  were  present. 
As  conveying  the  best  idea  of  the  impression  he  made  and 


CRITICISMS.  56 

the  manner  in  which  he  was  received,  we  refer  to  the  fol- 
lowing contemporaneous  notices  and  criticisms : — 

(^From  the  Courrier  de  la  Gironde,  Bordeaux^  20  June,  1851.) 

The  last  Wednesdaj  of  Mr.  and  Madme.  — >  was  magnificent.  Not- 
withstanding tropical  heat  and  the  seductions  of  the  country,  which  re- 
tained all  t^  ^lite  of  our  society  in  their  chateaux  and  villas,  the  salons 
of  Mr.  and  Madme. were  literally  invaded. 

Pradier,  the  great  sculptor,  the  author  of  so  many  chefs  (Poeuvre,  the 
Praxiteles  of  the  nineteenth  century,  on  his  way  through  Bordeaux,  was 
present  at  this  delightful  soiree,  at  which  Mad.  Laborde,  the  admirable 
cantatrice,  and  Gottschalk,  the  celebrated  pianist,  had  very  willingly  lent 
their  services. 

As  to  Gottschalk  everybody  knows  the  immense  eflfect  which  he  always 
produces.  At  half-past  two  in  the  morning  he  was  still  at  the  piano ; 
applauded,  surrounded,  feted,  they  gave  him  no  rest.  After  many  of  his 
new  and  unpublished  compositions,  they  wished  to  hear  again  *  Mancenil- 
lier,*  the  *  Danse  des  Ombres,'  *  God  Save  the  Queen,'  *  La  Chasse  du  Jeune 
Henri,*  *  Lucia,'  the  *  Carnaval  de  Venise,'  the  *  Mouvement  perp6tuel' 
of  Weber.  What  more  can  I  say  t  A  pianist  who  can  hold  his  audience 
for  two  hours  breathless  1     What  a  n^racle  I  A.  Boudin. 

{From  the  Memorial  Bordelaut,  Bordeaux,  19  June,  1851.) 

A  grand  concert  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor  is  announced  soon  to  take 
place,  in  the  hall  of  the  Grand  Theatre,  to  be  given  before  his  departure 
for  Spain,  by  our  illustrious  pianist,  Gottschalk. 

This  noble  idea  will  meet  with  the  unanimous  sympathy  of  our  people. 

Mr.  Gottschalk  also  has  to  go  to  Libourne  next  Monday,  where  a  musi- 
cal festival  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor  has  likewise  been  organized. 

Honour  to  the  great  artist  who  knows  how  to  combine  a  great  heart  with 
great  talents ! 

» 
{From  L^Ami  des  Arts,  Bordeaux,  15  June,  1851.) 

In  an  article  on  Mr.  Gottschalk,  Mr.  G.  Barth61emon  says  :  "As  at  first, 
we  have  found  in  Mr.  Gottschalk  a  peculiar  cachet ;  he  does  not  imitate 
any  one  :  his  playing  is  neither  that  of  Liszt  nor  of  Thalberg ;  it  is  still 
better — that  of  Gottschalk." 

In  an  article  in  'L' Agent  Draraatique/  of  Toulouse, 
8  June,  1851,  Mr.  Barthelemon,  from  Bordeaux,  under  date 
of  31  May,  says: — 

Enthusiasm  carries  us  away.  Figure  to  yourself  a  pale  young  man,  with 
regular  features,  and  such  hands  as  are  seldom  made.  It  is  Gottschalk. 
Gottschalk  is  one  of  those  ^lite  organizations  who  make  their  souls  pass 
into  a  piano-case  and  then  come  out  again  by  striking  on  the  key -board. 
Talent  more  pure  and  more  brilliant  never  charmed  our  ear ;  the  audacity 
and  thunder  of  Liszt  are  tempered  in  him  with  the  melodious  sentiments  of 
the  German  masters.  His  elegant  compositions  acquire  under  his  fingers 
a  grace  which  cannot  be  described. 


56  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 


{From  the  Memorial  des  Pyr^n/eSf  Pau,  14  June,  1851,  taken  from  the  Courrier 

de  la  Gironde, 

Gk)ttsohalk*8  execution  astonishes,  while,  at  the  same  time,  it  charms. 
Thus,  while  the  right  hand  designs  the  theme  and  gives  it  all  its  contours, 
the  other,  as  if  it  had  winged  fingers  and  with  vertiginous  rapidity,  flies 
from  one  end  of  the  key-board  to  the  other,  and  groups  around  the  melody 
showers  of  sparkling  notes,  deluges  of  arpeggios  and  of  chrijmatic  traits. 
It  is  a  veritable  musical  artificial  firework,  impossible  to  describe ;  but 
the  melody  is  never  lost  under  the  transparent  drapery  which  covers  it ; 
it  always  detaches  itself  with  pearly  neatness,  and  the  last  note  is  as 
pure,  as  velvety  as  the  first.  J.  Saint-Rieul  Dupouy. 

{From  the  Courrier  de  la  Gironde^  Bordeaux ^  21  June,  1851.) 

Mr.  Gottschalk  will  leave  at  Bordeaux  a  profound  souvenir  as  an  artist 
and  as  a  man,  for  the  generosity  of  his  heart  is  at  least  equal  to  his  im- 
mense talent.  A.  Boudin. 

Mr.  G.  Barthelemon,  speaking  in  the  'Ami  des  Arts'  of 
Bordeaux,  20  July,  1851,  of  the  concert  for  the  poor,  says,  in 
his  concluding  remarks: — 

May  we  be  permitted  to  say  in  conclusion  that  Gottschalk,  after  hav- 
ing given  to  his  audience  the  rich  products  of  his  genius,  and  to  the  poor  the 
fruit  of  his  receipts,  gave  to  the  charming  young  ladies  of  A  de  S 

C ,  etc.,  who  were  in  the  box  of  the  General,  the  flowers  he  had  just 

received.  Oh,  yes  1  we  will  tell  it,  for  this  trait,  simple  as  it  is,  is  that  of 
a  gallant  man. 

It  is  so  rare  to  find  all  these  qualities  united  in  the  same  man  :  talent, 
modesty,  bounty,  and  gallantry. 

.  We  also  will  join  ourselves  with  those  young  persons  who  on  Thursday 
evening  applauded  him  with  their  pretty  little  white  and  delicate  hands, 
and  will  say  with  them : — 

Thanks,  Gottschalk  I  you  are  on  the  way  which  leads  to  glory,  to 
riches,  to  honour  !  you  will  be  f6ted  by  the  great  and  the  powerful ! — ^you 
will  be  blessed  by  the  poor  I 

{From  Vlndicateur,  Bordeaux^  20  July,  1851.) 

The  concert  given  by  Mr.  Gottschalk  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor  has 
been  as  brilliant  as  could  be  wished  for.  This  work  of  benevolence,  pre- 
pared a  long  time  in  advance,  has  not  been  unfruitful  to  those  for  whom 
it  was  destined.  All  the  most  distinguished  musicians  and  amateurs  of 
Bordeaux  took  part  in  it  with  the  most  praiseworthy  eagerness.  Tlie 
ladies  particularly  appeared  in  great  numbers,  and  were  not  the  least 
ornaments  of  this  musical  solemnity. 

As  the  programme  oflFered  by  Mr.  Gottschalk  was  almost  the  same  as 
that  of  the  two  preceding  concerts,  one  cannot,  without  the  risk  of  repeat- 
ing one's  self,  follow  it  in  all  of  its  details  ;  thus,  to  avoid  the  difficulty,  let 
us  say,  that  Mr.  Gottschalk  from  one  end  of  the  concert  to  the  other  took 
up  his   position  with  so  striking  a  superiority,  that  the  applause,  the 


CRITICISMS.  57 

bravos,  and  transports  of  admiration  were  not  discontinued;  and  that  to 
the  satisfaction  of  having  been  able  to  leave  to  the  unfortunate  of  our  citj 
a  testimony  of  his  sympathy,  he  has  also  been  able  to  convince  himself 
how  much  the  public  was  sensible  of  this  act  of  generosity  on  his  part, 
and  how  much  his  rich  and  beautiful  talent  was  felt  and  worthily 
appreciated  by  it. 

The  ensemble  of  the  concert  was  fine,  although  rather  grave.  A  piece 
for  two  pianos,  on  *  Jerusalem'  (the  opera  by  Verdi),  composed  expressly 
for  this  occasion,  whilst  founded  on  melodies  of  rather  weak  value,  was 
given,  nevertheless,  with  conspicuous  effect,  thanks  to  the  vigour  of  its 
execution,  which  caused  it  to  be  warmly  applauded. 

After  remaining  about  two  months  in  Bordeaux  Gott- 
Bchalk  proceeded  on  his  journey.     Stopping  at  Pau,  he 

fave  a  concert  which  brought  out  an  article  from  Mr. 
^atrick  O'Quin,  member  of  the  Corps  Legjislatif.  It  con- 
tains many  thines  with  which  the  reader  Has  already  been 
made  acquainted;  but  we  give  it  as  a  piece  of  contemporary 
history. 

(/>om  the  Memorial  des  Pyr^n^es,  Pau,  6  August,  1851.) 

A  few  years  since  there  arrived  at  Paris  the  son  of  a  gentleman  of  Louisi- 
ana. In  that  country,  where  the  remembrance  of  France  is  not  effaced, 
it  is  the  dream  of  families  to  give  their  children  a  French  and  particu- 
larly a  Parisian  education.  He,  thanks  to  his  parents'  fortune,  received  , 
lessons  from  the  best  masters  ;  he  learned  fencing  from  Grisier,  horse- 
manship from  Pellier,  and  Stamaty  taught  him  the  piano ;  without  reck- 
oning Greek,  Latin,  and  the  rest.  One  day  Stamaty,  his  professor  of  the 
piano,  discovered  in  the  child  a  marvellous  aptitude  for  this  instrument. 
Placed  opposite  the  key-board,  he  was  already  more  than  a  scholar,  and 
besides  the  mechanical  perfection  attained  only  by  practice,  he  gave,  by 
a  thousand  traits,  marks  of  an  artist.  At  the  end  of  a  short  time  Stamaty 
had  nothing  more  to  teach  him. 

Greek  and  Latin,  the  riding-school,  and  the  fencing-hall,  one  may  judge, 
were  then  somewhat  abandoned.  The  child,  become  a  young  man,  felt  him- 
self led  by  an  irresistible  vocation.  He  gave  himself  up  to  it  with  ardour, 
with  passion,  and  he  then  commenced  hard  and  persevering  studies,  the 
prelude  to  success  of  all  great  artists.  Genius  in  the  rough  does  not  throw 
out  great  lustre,  and  it  is  just ;  to  burn  with  all  its  fires  the  diamond 
requires  cutting  ;  the  talent  which  owes  nothing  to  labour  is  a  chimera  of 
idleness,  a  puffed-up  invention  of  unappreciated  genius. 

Is  it  necessary  to  say  that  this  young  man  was  Gottschalk  ?  Some  time 
afterwards  nothing  was  sjwken  about  in  the  musical  world  of  Paris  except 
of  a  great  pianist,  the  rival  of  Liszt,  of  Chopin,  and  of  Thalberg.  It  was, 
who  should  hear  Gottschalk,  or  who  should  applaud  his  negro  chant  of 
'Bamboula'  so  original  and  languishing,  or  who  should  admire  the  eminent 
artist,  and  at  the  same  time  the  composer  of  the  ^lite,  for  this  new  artist 
was  both  the  one  and  the  other.  Only  some  privileged  salons,  that  of 
Madame  Merlin,  or  of  M.  Orfila,  for  example,  had  yet  the  monopoly  of 
Gottschalk  ;  and  when,  one  year  after,  during  the  winter  of  1849,  he  ap- 


68  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

peared  in  public  for  the  first  time,  his  name  was  already  celebrated,  and 
his  success  indisputable. 

That  success  was  immense ;  from  his  debut  Gottsohalk  was  greeted  one  of 
the  masters  of  his  art.  *  Le  Bamboula, '  *  le  Bananier,  *  *  Ossiau, '  *  la  Savane,  * 
and  twenty  other  delicious  compositions  raised  a  furor.  Berlioz,  Fiorentino, 
Escudier,  Theophile  Gautier,  all,  in  one  word,  who  had  gained  a  reputation 
in  criticism,  bowed  before  this  sudden  reputation,  and  rendered  homage  to 
him.  Gottschalk  had  thus  one  day,  without  expecting  it,  received  the 
baptism  of  renown  which  Paris,  that  metropolis  of  art,  can  only  give. 

Summer  came,  he  travelled  towards  Switzerland ;  his  journey  was 
nothing  but  a  long  ovation.  At  Geneva  he  excited  an  enthusiasm  which 
amounted  to  frenzy.  At  Aix  the  Grand  Duchess  of  Weimar  and  the 
Queen  of  Sardinia  loaded  him  with  marks  of  esteem.  At  Lausanne  they 
overwhelmed  him  with  flowers  and  bouquets,  and  their  admiration  took 
an  alarming  character  for  this  frail  and  delicate  organization.  At  last, 
after  having  played  in  fifty  concerts,  after  having  been  applauded  and 
feted  everywhere  and  by  all,  he  returned  to  Paris,  where,  last  winter,  new 
triumphs  were  reserved  for  him.  Bordeaux,  which  retained  him  for  two 
months,  then  heard  him,  and  he  has  now  come  to  us  on  his  road  to  Spain, 
where  other  crowns  await  him. 

A  salon,  always  hospitable  for  artists  of  true  merit,  has  from  the  first 
opened  its  doors  to  him,  and  last  Monday  a  select  audience,  assembled  in 
the  hall  of  Dorado,  gave  to  this  young  man,  as  amiable  in  character  as 
elevated  by  talent,  a  reception  worthy  of  him. 

(^From  L*  International  J  Bayonne^  15  September,  1851.) 

Many  journals  of  Madrid,  the  *  Heraldo,'  the  *  Precursor,'  the  *  Tribune 
del  Pueblo,'  etc.,  announce  the  speedy  arrival  in  that  city  of  the  celebrated 
pianist  Gottschalk.    The  *  Tribune  del  Pueblo'  does  it  in  these  words  ; — 

GOTTSOHALK. 

We  have  the  pleasure  of  announcing  to  our  readers,  that  the  Philhar- 
monic Circles  will  play  immediately  on  the  arrival  at  Madrid  in  honour  of 
the  celebrated  pianist  Gottschalk,  the  bard  of  America,  the  distinguished 
musician,  who  has  merited  the  verdict  which  has  been  passed  on  him, 
that  he  has  the  soul  of  Chopin,  and  the  marvellous  execution  of  Listz, 
the  artist  finally  whose  rising  star  will  shine  among  those  of  the  Thalbergs 
and  the  Prudents. 

Berlioz,  Fiorentino,  Escudier,  Theophile  Gautier,  Patrick  O'Quin,  de 
L^nieres,  and  many  other  celebrated  critics,  have  rendered  the  homage 
due  to  his  talent  and  his  lyre. 

He  has  given  in  the  commencement  of  this  month  concerts  at  Biar- 
ritz and  at  Bayonne,  of  which  the  press  of  the  south  of  France  has  spoken. 
He  will  soon  be  on  Spanish  soil,  and  before  going  to  Madrid,  we  know 
that  he  will  stop  at  Saint  Sebastien,  Burgos,  and  in  some  other  important 
cities,  where  he  will  justify  what  a  French  feuilletonist  has  said  of  him, 
that  his  fingers  give  to  the  piano  a  sentiment  which  moves  the  heart  as 
profoundly  as  the  human  voice. 

We  hope  soon  to  have  the  opportunity  of  admiring  this  notability 
whom  the  foreign  press  pictures  to  us  as  the  beau  icUal  of  a  pianist. 

H.  Da  Costa. 


ARRIVAL  AT  MADRID.  69 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

On  his  arrival  in  Spain  he  found  honours  and  triumphs 
awaiting  him  greater  than  he  had  ever  received  before. 
At  Bilboa,  the  first  Spanish  city  in  which  he  played,  he 
gave  three  concerts  in  seven  days.  The  entire  receipts  of 
the  third  concert  were  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  munici- 
pal authorities  to  be  devoted  to  the  Maison  de  Charite. 
The  Ayuntamiento,  the  directors  of  the  hospital,  and  the 
clergy  acknowledged  the  receipt  with  the  warmest  thanks. 

On  his  arrival  at  Madrid  he  wrote  to  his  father  the  fol- 
lowing letters : — 

Madbid,  17  November,  1851. 

The  Queen  has  not  yet  decided  to  aUow  me  to  play  before  her.  The 
nobility  show  themselves  somewhat  reserved  towards  m«.  It  is  said  that 
the  Queen,  on  hearing  that  I  am  an  American,  exclaimed  that  she  would 
sever  patronize  an  artist  of  that  nation.  Whether  this  be  true  or  not, 
the  rumour  of  it  has  spread  abroad,  and  the  courtiers  dislike  to  show  me 
too  marked  a  degree  of  courtesy,  for  fear  of  irritating  Her  Majesty.  I 
cannot,  however,  complain  now  ;  they  are  all  excessively  amiable  towards 
me,  and  for  this  reason  :  his  Excellency  the  Duke  of  Riansares,  husband 
of  the  Queen  Dowager  Christina,  receives  me  frequently,  and  treats  me 
in  the  kindest  manner  possible.  The  Queen  Dowager  has  also  sent  me  an 
invitation  to  the  ball  and  supper  which  she  is  to  give  in  her  palace  on  the 
19th  inst.,  to  celebrate  the  anniversary  of  the  birthday  of  her  daughter, 
Queen  Isabella.  The  King,  Queen,  royal  children,  and  all  the  court  will 
be  present. 

Madrid,  19  November,  1851. 

Hardly  had  I  returned  from  putting  my  last  letter  in  the  post-office, 
when  the  Secretary  of  His  Excellency  the  Duke  of  Riansares  came  in  all 
haste  to  announce  that  Her  Majesty  the  Queen  wished  to  hear  me  play  in 
her  apartments,  that  very  evening,  before  a  select  audience,  and  without 
the  ceremony  of  a  public  ordeal ;  the  audience  was  to  be  the  King,  the 
Queen,  the  Queen  Dowager,  and  the  Duke.  This  is  the  greatest  mark  of 
honour  that  could  possibly  be  conferred  on  me  at  this  court,  as  I  shall  be 
the  first  artist  ever  admitted  so  freely  to  the  private  apartments  of  the 
palace. 

My  Secretary  immediately  donned  his  best  coat,  white  kid  gloves,  etc., 
and  escorted  my  two  pianos  to  the  parlour  of  Her  Majesty.  At  9  o'clock 
in  the  evening,  the  King's  pianist  came  for  me,  and  in  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  we  were  at  the  foot  of  the  grand  staircase  of  the  palace.' 


60  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

At  the  top  of  the  staircase,  two  sentinels  stopped  ns.  An  officer  asked 
onr  names,  and  then  allowed  us  to  pass  on  through  a  long  gallery  splen- 
didly ornamented,  where  at  every  twenty  feet  was  stationed  a  halberdier 
enveloped  in  his  mantle.  At  the  end  of  the  gallery  an  officer  received  us, 
and  introduced  us  into  a  grand  saloon,  decorated  in  a  wonderfully  bril- 
liant style.  Our  cloaks  were  here  taken  from  us.  Two  tall,  fine-looking 
men,  whom  I  ascertained  to  be  servants,  stood  before  the  fireplace,  warm- 
ing themselves,  and  attracted  my  eye  by  the  richness  of  their  dress  of 
blue  cloth  embroidered  with  gold,  knee  breeches,  white  silk  stockings, 
and  court  swords.  A  young  nobleman  on  service,  dressed  in  the  richest 
court  costume,  covered  with  orders  and  ribbons,  marshalled  us  into  the 
antechamber,  and  requested  us  to  wait.  He  went  to  inquire  of  the 
chamberlain  on  duty  if  we  could  be  presented  to  Her  Majesty.  A  moment 
after,  we  entered  the  *^Scdle  des  Gentilshommesj**  where  five  or  six  great 
officers  of  the  state,  in  court  costumes,  were  on  duty,  awaiting  Her 
Majesty's  orders. 

We  passed  through  still  another  grand  saloon,  and  came  at  last  to  a 
square-shaped  apartment,  at  one  side  of  which  was  a  door,  hidden  by 
tapestry,  and  opening  into  the  room  where  Her  Majesty  was  to  receive  us. 
The  young  nobleman  who  accompanied  us  made  some  private  signal.  He 
was  answered  and  we  were  ushered  in. 

At  first,  I  was  completely  dazzled  by  the  flood  of  light  which  filled  the 
saloon.  A  young  man  of  strikingly  elegant  exterior  stood  before  me,  and 
said  to  me  in  good  French,  with  a  most  pleasant  smile  and  tone  of  voice  : 
**Ah,  Monsieur  Gottschalk,  how  happy  I  am  to  receive  a  man  of  your  tal- 
ent I  It  is  a  fortune  for  Spain  to  possess  a  pianist  whose  widespread 
reputation  is  based  on  such  sure  grounds  !'*  This  amiable  and  graceful 
young  man  was  the  King.  A  lady,  of  large  size  and  certain  age,  but  very 
dignified  and  courteous,  rose  at  my  entrance  and  saluted  me  with  the 
utmost  afifability.  The  Queen  Dowager !  Behind  her  chair  stood  the 
Duke,  her  husband,  whom  I  already  knew.  The  King,  with  true  delicacy 
of  feeling,  in  order  not  to  oblige  me  to  remain  on  my  feet,  all  alone,  before 
the  Royal  presence — as  required  by  etiquette— stood  up  near  me  the  whole 
evening.  I  have  never  met  with  a  more  amiable,  jwlished,  or  courteous 
gentleman,  having  more  happily  the  art  of  uttering  words  which  go  to 
the  heart  of  an  artist.  A  rustling  of  silk  announced  Her  Majesty's 
approach.  The  King  came  near  me  and  said,  **  Monsieur  Gottschalk,  it 
is  the  Queen  1"  The  tapestry  over  the  door  was  raised,  and  Queen  Isa- 
bella entered.     She  received  my  salutation  with  the  most  gracious  smile. 

The  Queen  is  very  tall  and  stout.  She  has  fine  blue  eyes,  hair  of  a 
chestnut  colour,  and  lips  inclined  to  thickness.  After  a  moment's  silence, 
her  Majesty  said  to  me  in  Spanish,  "Whenever  you  are  perfectly  ready 
to  play.  Monsieur,  I  shall  be  happy  to  hear  you."  I  first  played  my  duo 
for  two  pianos,  assisted  by  the  King's  pianist.  At  the  finale,  I  heard  her 
Majesty  rise,  leave  her  seat,  and  place  herself  behind  my  chair.  The 
King  was  to  my  right,  leaning  on  the  piano,  the  Queen  Dowager  a  little 
farther  off.  Several  times  I  could  hear  the  Queen  exclaim  in  Spanish, 
**  I  never  heard  anything  so  beautiful !"  After  the  piece  was  over,  the 
King  came  and  complimented  me;  and  the  Queen  said  to  me:  **Very 
good,  Monsieur  Gottschalk,  that  was  very  good  I"  The  King  requested 
the  *  Bananier,'  one  of  my  own  compositions,  on  a  Creole  air,  that  you  in 
New  Orleans  must  have  heard  often.  "  I  play  it,"  said  the  King  ;  **  it  is 
a  great  favourite  of  mine."     I  played  the  piece  ;  and  the  Queen  and  her 


QUEEN  CHRISTINA.  61 

mother  appeared  to  be  charmed  with  it.  The  King  asked  me  for  another 
of  my  pieces.  I  played  the  ^Danse  Ossianique,'  which  produced  as  flat- 
tering an  effect  as  its  predecessors.  The  Queen  came  to  me,  and  addressed 
me  a  compliment  conceived  in  the  most  gracious  terms  ;  she  tlfen  asked 
me  for  another  performance.  I  played  the  *  Moissonneuse.'  The  King 
said :  *'  That  is  good  music,  Monsieur  Gottschalk ;  that  is  poetry  itselt 
It  will  not  be  appreciated  in  Spain ;  the  only  pianists  we  admire  here 
are  those  who  perform  acrobatic  feats  on  their  instrument.'' 

A  conversation  of  half  an  hour  followed,  when  the  Queen  said  something, 
that  I  did  not  hear,  to  the  King.  He  turned  to  me  and  told  me  that  her 
Majesty  insisted  on  hearing  the  piece  I  had  dedicated  to  her,  the  *  Bam- 
boula,'  another  beautiful  old  Creole  air.  **  We  are  so  much  pleased  with 
it,"  said  the  King,  "that  I  frequently  either  play  it  myself,  or  have  it 
played  for  me.''  I  begged  their  Majesties  to  have  a  little  indulgence  for 
me,  in  case  I  did  not  please  them  so  well  in  this  as  in  other  pieces  ;  for  I 
had  not  played  it  for  a  long  time.  **  Say  you  so  I"  replied  the  King, 
laughing  ;  **  then  you  must  play  it  for  us,  for  I  wish  now  to  see  in  what 
manner  you  will  be  able  to  play  badly."  I  played  the  *  Bamboula,'  and 
the  King  and  Queen  appeared  to  be  much  astonished  at  it. 

Queen  Christina  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  humming  the  air,  and 
exclaiming,  now  and  then,  "How  beautiful  I"  The  Queen  paid  me  an- 
other very  flattering  compliment,  and  the  King  chatted  with  me  for  another 
half  hour.  Queen  Christina  said  to  him,  "Sir,  this  evening's  entertain- 
ment should  strengthen  your  taste  for  the  piano."  "Ah,  Madame," 
replied  the  King,  "my  piano  will  remain  closed  all  day  to-morrow  ;  I 
shall  not  have  the  courage  to  touch  it  for  some  time  yet,  I  fear."  I  then 
advanced  to  her  Majesty  and  returned  my  thanks  for  the  very  flattering 
manner  in  which  I  had  been  received.  "  It  is  I,  sir,"  said  the  Queen, 
graciously,  "  who  should  thank  you  for  the  charming  soiree  we  have 
passed."  It  being  then  time  to  retire,  the  King  accompanied  us  to  the 
door  of  the  saloon  and  remained  there,  watching  our  departure,  until  we 
had  passed  the  third  or  fourth  saloon,  waving  his  hand  to  me  and  smiling 
pleasantly.  This  is  considered  to  be  the  most  polite  compliment  the  King 
can  pay  to  a  visitor ;  but  it  is  rather  troublesome,  as  it  obliges  one  to 
retire  backwards. 

Yesterday  evening  I  went  to  the  Queen  Dowager's  ball.  I  had  the 
honour  of  dancing  several  polkas  before  her  Majesty  with  the  young  and 
charming  Countess  of  Casa  Valencia,  the  daughter  of  one  of  her  Majesty's 
grooms  of  the  Chamber.  The  Queen  and  the  Queen  Dowager  were  seated 
on  a  divan  or  throne ;  the  King  occupied  an  arm-chair  to  the  Queen's  left ; 
his  father,  sisters,  and  brother  were  seated  to  the  right  of  the  Queen 
Dowager.  Around  this  royal  group  was  an  immense  circle  of  lords  and 
ladies  of  the  Court,  all  standing.  The  King  rose  and  walked  slowly 
around  the  great  saloon,  addressing  a  smile  to  one,  a  kind  remark  to  an- 
other. On  perceiving  me,  he  advanced  immediately  towards  me,  and  after 
making  a  few  courteous  inquiries  as  to  my  health  after  the  fatigues  of  the 
previous  night,  repeated  the  compliments  he  was  then  pleased  to  address 
me.  All  eyes  were  fixed  upon  me,  and  my  triumph — a  legitimate  one- 
over  those  who  had  before  treated  me  so  coldly,  was  complete. 

The  Queen  Dowager's  chief  physician  came  up  to  me,  and  said  :  "  Per- 
mit me,  sir,  to  be  among  the  first  to  felicitate  you  upon  your  signal  success 
last  evening.  Her  Majesty,  the  Queen  Dowager,  told  me  that  you  had 
pleased  her  infinitely,  and  that  she  preferred  your  style  of  playing  even 
to  that  of  Liszt,  the  pianist  who  had  heretofore  been  her  greatest  favourite." 

6 


62  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

After  his  reception  by  the  Queen,  who  subsequently  con- 
ferred upon  him  the  order  of  Isabella  the  Catholic,  the 
Infantas,  sisters  to  the  Kin^,  also  feted  him;  they  con- 
tinually received  him  in  their  apartments,  and  the  whole 
Court  followed  the  fashion  which  royalty  had  set,  so  that 
he  was  in  truth  the  '  lion'  of  the  nobility  of  Spain. 

Hitherto  the  Court  had  monopolized  him,  J)ut  the  people 
of  Madrid  now  demanded  to  hear  him.  Accordingly,  he 
gave  three  concerts  at  the  Teatro  del  Circe,  which  were 
attended  by  vast  crowds,  whose  enthusiasm,  bravos,  and 
plaudits  proclaimed  him  the  first  pianist  of  the  age.  At 
the  first  of  these  concerts  six  of  his  pieces  were  encored ; 
he  was  called  before  the  audience  seventeen  times,  and  the 
last  time  a  crown  of  gold  was  thrown  to  him. 

After  remaining  some  time  at  Madrid  he  visited  Valla- 
dolid,  the  first  city  of  Old  Castille.  His  reception  there  is 
thus  described  by  Mr.  Marie  Escudier  in  'La  France 'Musi- 
cale,'  of  Paris,  of  February  1, 1852. 

GOTTSCHALK  AT  VALLADOLID. 

After  his  triumph  at  Madrid,  Gottschalk  has  gone  to  VaUadolid,  the  capi- 
tal of  Old  Castille.  Hardly  had  he  arrived  than  the  hotel  where  he  alighted 
was  filled  with  the  most  distinguished  amateurs  of  the  city.  The  students 
of  VaUadolid,  the  Montpellier  of  Spain,  sent  to  him  a  deputation  of  six  of 
their  comrades  to  felicitate  and  offer  their  services  to  him.  The  governor- 
general  of  Old  Castille  went  himself  to  pay  him  a  visit  and  place  his  mag- 
nificent equipage  at  his  disposal.  Two  days  after  his  arrival  the  musicians 
of  the  city  gave  him  a  serenade,  and  the  governor  offered  him  a  grand 
dinner,  at  which  all  the  authorities  were  present.  The  husband  of  the 
Infanta  was  present.  H.  R.  H.  did  him  the  honour  of  sending  for  dessert 
a  cake  kneaded  by  her  royal  hands.  The  next  day  he  was  received  at 
the  palace  of  the  Infanta,  sister  of  the  King,  who  wished  to  hear  him,  and 
lavished  upon  him  the  liveliest  felicitations.  Gottschalk  did  not  know 
what  to  attribute  these  marks  of  zeal  and  respect  to,  of  which  he  was  the 
object,  when  he  learned,  some  one  writes  us,  that  the  excellent  Queen  Isa- 
bella had  written  to  the  authorities  of  all  Castille  that  she  desired  that  on 
his  journey  the  celebrated  pianist  should  be  received  with  the  greatest 
distinction.  He  has  given  three  concerts  in  six  days  at  VaUadolid,  and 
the  crowd  has  not  ceased  to  follow  him.  The  third  took  place  at  the  the- 
atre, and  his  triumph  was  signalized  by  manifestations  above  anything  that 
can  be  imagined.  His  *  Carnaval  de  Venise*  and  his  fantasia  on  'Jerusalem' 
have  particularly  excited  transports  of  enthusiasm.  These  are,  we  are  as- 
sured by  those  who  have  heard  them,  two  dazzling  compositions  of  verve 
and  originality.  Gottschalk  was  to  leave  immediately  for  Burgos,  where  he 
was  expected  as  at  VaUadolid.  The  second  of  March  he  will  return  to 
Madrid,  and  on  the  4th  he  is  to  be  presenit  at  a  Court  ball,  for  which  the 
Queen  has  sent  him  a  direct  invitation. 


SINGULAR  HONOUR.  68 

While  in  Valladolid  he  was  made  the  recipient  of  a 
very  singular  and  distinguished  honour  to  be  ottered  to  an 
artist  and  composer.  Tlie  Count  de  Pierra,  Gentleman  of 
the  Chamber  of  H.  M.  Isabella,  and  Colonel  of  the  Faniesio 
Regiment,  wrote  him  the  following  letter: — 

Mr.  GOTTSCHALK  : 

The  Captain  of  my  Regiment,  Don  Angustin  de  Gelamenti,  the  bearer  of 
this  letter,  is  commissioned  to  let  you  see  all  yon  may  desire  of  our  cavalry 
as  a  mark  of  my  high  esteem,  and  for  the  purpose  of  placing  you  in  a 
position,  if  it  does  not  fatigue  you,  of  judging  of  its  condition  in  compari- 
son with  those  with  which  you  may  be  acquainted.  In  giving  ourselves 
this  honour,  I  have  that  of  offering  myself  to  you  with  the  most  sincere 
friendship,  Your  very  humble  and 

Very  obedient  servant. 

Gottschalk  makes  the  following  note  at  the  foot  of  the 
letter. 

Mr.  the  Count  de  Pierra,  Gentleman  of  the  Chamber  of  H.  M.  Isabella, 
and  Colonel  of  the  Farnesio  Regiment,  made  the  garrison  of  Valladolid 
pass  in  review  before  me. 

A  short  time  after,  while  preparing  to  visit  Burgos,  he 
met  with  an  adventure  which  obliged  him  to  postpone  his 
voyage.  This  adventure,  as  related  by  Gottschalk  to  his 
family,  was  as  follows.  Leaving  the  Court  in  one  of  the 
Court  carriages,  accompanied  by  his  secretary,  he  heard  his 
name  called,  and  stopping  the  coach  he  found  he  had  been 
called  by  the  pianist  of  the  Court,  who  came^  running  up. 
Gottschalk  opened  the  coach  door,  when  the  pianist,  seeing 
Gottschalk's  fingers  grasping^  one  side  of  the  opening, 
quickly  shut  the  door  upon  them.  The  pain  was  so  great 
that  Gottschalk  immediately  fainted,  and  was  taken  to  his 
hotel.  On  examination  it  was  found  that  his  little  finger 
was  very  much  injured,  and  the  surgeons  feared  they  would 
have  to  amputate  it.  To  this  Gottschalk  would  not  con- 
sent, as  it  would  prevent  him  from  ever  playing  again.  He 
was  ninety-one  days  in  recovering.  What  was  very  re- 
markable, instead  of  injuring,  it  absolutely  benefited  his 
finger,  which  became  more  powerful  than  ever,  and  en- 
abled him  to  execute  certain  passages  with  more  eclat  than 
before.     The  motive  assigned  for  t£is  great  outrage  was  the 


64  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

jealousy  of  the  Court  pianist  at  finding  himself  eclipsed,  and 
who  hoped  by  this  stratagem  to  disable  Gottschalk  for  ever 
after. 

During  his  convalescence,  Gottschalk  had  the  honour  of 
being  presented  to  H.  H.  I'lnfanta  Dona  Josepha,  sister 
of  the  King,  who  showed  him  the  greatest  attention,  fre- 
quently inviting  him  to  dinner  at  her  own  table.  One  day 
after  the  dessert,  H.  R.  H.  playfully  and  kindly  presented 
him  with  a  cake  made  by  her  royal  hands.  After  he  had 
played  some  of  his  finest  pieces,  she  complimented  him  in 
the  warmest  manner,  and  afterwards  presented  him  two 
diamond  studs  and  her  portrait  surrounded  by  brilliants. 
What  rendered  this  double  gift  more  valuable  was  that  it 
was  accompanied  by  an  autograph  letter. 

In  June,  1852,  he  returned  to  Madrid  at  the  request  of  the 
Queen.  The  Academic  Artistique  signalized  his  return  by 
conferring  on  him  the  title  of  honorary  member.  His  re- 
appearance was  marked  by  a  concert  given  at  the  Teatro 
del  Principe,  when  he  performed  for  the  first  time  'Le 
Siege  de  Saragosse,'  written  for  ten  pianos,  and  which  he 
dedicated  to  Spain.  It  was  triumphantly  received.  The 
following  remarks  appeared  in  a  journal  of  Madrid,  the 
morning  after  the  first  performance. 

At  last  came  the  grand  piece  composed  for  the  occasion  by  the  eminent 
artist,  caUed  the  *  Siege  de  Saragosse, '  which  has  been  the  talk  of  the  city 
for  the  last  eight  days.  Gottschalk  appeared  at  the  head  of  his  aides-de- 
camp all  dressed  in  the  same  manner.  Applause  ran  through  the  room, 
after  each  phrase,  each  variation.  There  is  a  passage  where  Gottschalk 
in  a  most  ingenious  manner  imitates  a  military  parade,  accompanied  by 
the  beating  of  the  drum  ;  it  produced  such  a  sensation  that  all  the  people 
rose  to  their  feet,  men  and  women,  and  he  was  compelled  to  repeat  the 
entire  passage.  The  Minister  of  Agriculture  was  unable  to  restrain  his 
emotion,  and  shouted  forth  Viva  la  Reine  which  was  the  climax  of  the 
mad  enthusiasm.  As  the  last  notes  of  the  '  Siege  de  Saragosse'  died  away, 
they  threw  on  the  stage  a  magnificent  wreath  decorated  with  ribbons,  on 
which  was  inscribed  ^^k  Gottschalk,  le  peuple  de  Madrid,  h,  son  concert  du 
13  Juin,  1852.'* 

As  he  left  the  theatre,  a  crowd  accompanied  him  to  his 
house.  The  military  bands  of  the  two  regiments,  that  of 
the  Queen  and  that  of  the  Princess,  played  beneath  his 
windows  his  'Danse  Ossianique.'  He  was  compelled  to 
make  several  speeches,  and  this  exciting  scene  continued 
until  three  o'clock  in  the  morning. 


THE  SWORD  OF  MONTES.  65 

The  admiration  which  he  inspired  amounted  almost  to 
fanaticism.  After  the  second  concert  he  received  from  the 
celebrated  Torreador  (bull-fighter),  Don  Jose  Kedondo,  the 
following  letter  accompanied  by  a  magnificent  sword : — 

;  My  dear  M.  Gottbchalk  :   I  esteem  very  highly  the  invitation  you  sent 

i  nie  for  your  concert.     It  afforded  me  an  opportunity  to  hear  an  artist,  pro- 

i  claimed  by  aU  the  inteUigent  amateurs  of  the  two  worlds,  as  one  of  the 

very  best  pianists  of  the  time.  Wishing  to  present  you  a  lasting  souvenir 
of  my  admiration,  I  pray  you  to  accept  one  of  the  swords  with  which  I 
have  maintained  the  Spanish  Toreo,  in  the  high  and  glorious  position  to 
which  it  was  raised  by  the  much  regrettefl  Francisco  Montes  from  whom 
this  sword  descended  to  me.  In  exchange  I  ask,  as  a  proof  of  your  esteem, 
an  autograph  from  your  hand,  which  I  shall  regard  as  one  of  the  most 
precious  souvenirs  of  my  life.  Jose  Redondo. 

At  the  close  of  the  secona  concert,  he  was  again  escorted 
to  his  hotel,  and  the  younger  members  of  the  most  distin- 
guished families  of  Madrid  gave  him  a  grand  banquet  as 
a  mark  of  their  admiration  and  esteem. 

After  leaving  Madrid  he  visited  other  cities  of  Spain. 
At  Cordova,  the  archbishop  gave  him  a  splendid  dinner  and 
presented  him  with  a  copy  of  his  '  Pastoral  l^oems.'  The 
canons  invited  him  to  inspect  the  treasures  of  the  Secret 
Library  of  the  Cathedral ;  and  he  was  invited  to  one  of  the 
meetings  of  the  authorities  of  the  city,  to  be  oflicially  pre- 
sented with  their  congratulations. 

At  no  time  was  Gottschalk  ever  carried  away  by  the 
tributes  awarded  him,  but  always  received  them  with  that 
modest  simplicity  which  so  greatly  characterized  him. 
The  greater  part  of  the  money  which  he  made  he  distri- 
buted for  charitable  purposes.  In  Madrid,  he  gave  15,000 
reals  towards  the  construction  of  a  hospital. 

At  San  Lucar,  he  met  the  Duke  de  Montpensier.  A 
warm  friendship  sprung  up  between  them.  Before  his  de- 
parture he  was  invited  to  one  of  the  Duke's  private  suppers, 
where  etiquette  was  laid  aside  for  cordial  and  familiar  en- 
joyment. The  Duke  and  Duchess  made  him  magnificent 
presents. 

Owing  to  the  accident  he  met  with,  his  departure  for 
America  was  delayed  beyond  the  period  agreed  upon  with 
his  father,  who  was  anxiously  awaiting  his  coming.  He, 
therefore,  was  obliged  to  leave  Spain,  which  he  did  very 

6* 


66  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

reluctantly,  for  Paris,  in  order  to  see  his  mother  and  sisters 
and  make  arrangements  for  his  departure.  He  remained  in 
Paris  only  three  weeks,  and  was  heard  only  twice  by  a  small 
audience  at  Pleyel's.  He  left  on  the  21st  of  December,  1852, 
and  embarked  on  board  the  Humboldt,  at  Havre,  for  New 
York. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


On  the  10th  of  January,  1853,  Gottschalk  arrived  in 
New  York,  where  he  found  his  father  awaiting  him. 
Shortly  after  his  arrival  Mr.  Barnum  called  upon  him,  and 
wished  to  make  an  arrangement  with  him  for  a  musical 
tour  through  the  United  States,  similar  to  that  which  he 
had  made  with  Jenny  Lind.  Unfortunately,  his  father  had 
taken  a  great  prejudice  to  Mr.  Barnum,  whom  he  looked 
upon  as  a  vulgar  showman,  and  thought  it  would  derogate 
from  his  son's  dignity  to  accept  his  oner;  and  after  remain- 
ing a  short  time  m  I^ew  York,  they  left  for  New  Orleans. 

His  first  concert  in  New  York  took  place  at  the  ball- 
room attached  to  Niblo's  Theatre,  on  the  11th  of  February, 
1853.  The  room  was  crowded  by  the  fashionable  society 
of  New  York,  who  manifested  the  greatest  delight  at  his 
performance,  and  piece  after  piece  was  greeted  with  the 
warmest  applause.  No  sooner  was  the  concert  over  than  he 
was  pressed  to  give  another.  The  second  took  place  six 
days  afterwards,  in  the  theatre  itself,  which  was  crowded 
to  overflowing. 

On  their  way  to  New  Orleans  they  stopped  at  Philadel- 
phia, where  Gottschalk  gave  his  first  concert  in  that  city. 
We  have  by  us  the  diary  of  Mr.  John  Bouvier  Peterson,  a 
young  amateur  and  composer  of  fine  promise,  who  fell  a 
victim  subsequently  to  that  terrible  disease,  which  is  the 
opprobrium  of  medicine — epilepsy.  Under  the  date  of 
March  1,  1853,  he  writes  that  he  went  to  Gottschalk's  con- 
cert at  the  Musical  Fund  Hall  on  the  evening  of  that 
day;— 


NEW  ORLEANS.  67 

When  we  got  to  the  hall,  we  fonnd  that  it  was  a  jam,  notwithstand- 
ing it  was  a  rainy  night.     At  eight  o'clock  the  concert  commence<l. 

Gottschalk  himself  then  made  his  appearance  amid  tremendous  ap- 
plause. He  is  very  young  looking,  does  not  seem  to  be  over  twenty-two 
years  of  age,  handsome,  and,  to  crown  the  whole,  is  so  easy  and  unaf- 
fected in  his  manner  that  a  person  could  not  fail  to  be  pleased  with  him 
as  a  man.  As  a  player  he  surpasses  even  Jaell,  and  his  execution  is 
astounding.  He  plays,  too,  with  so  much  taste  and  expression  that  any 
person  who  has  any  feeling  c^ould  not  help  but  be  pleased. 

It  appears,  from  Gottschalk's  notes,  that  the  concerts  in 
Xew  York  did  not  pay  expenses. 

On  their  arrival  in  'New  Orleans  his  fellow-citizens  re- 
ceived him  with  open  arms.  It  seemed  to  him  like  return- 
ing to  his  family  and  home.  Every  door  was  thrown  open 
to  him.  Madam  B.,  the  charming  pianist,  who  had  been 
among  the  earliest  to  predict  what  he  would  be,  when,  only 
ten  years  of  age,  he  played  at  one  of  her  delightful  soirees, 
was  among  the  first  to  welcome  him,  and  open  her  salon  to 
him.  His  old  professor,  Letellier,  was  his  shadow.  The 
Freemasons  of  New  Orleans  gave  him  a  dinner,  at  which 
he  was  congratulated  by  an  address  in  poetry,  written  for 
the  occasion.  Concert  succeeded  concert  without  interrup- 
tion ;  at  one  of  them  three  hundred  bouquets  were  thrown 
to  him,  and,  to  his  great  surprise,  almost  every  one  had  a 
ring  attached  to  it.  His  sojourn  in  his  native  city  was  all 
sunshine,  but,  notwithstanding  his  ^reat  desire  to  remain 
there,  he  felt  the  necessity  of  leaving.  He  then  gave  a 
farewell  concert,  and  it  was  at  this  concert  that  his  fellow- 
citizens,  with  that  generosity  and  delicacy  which  charac- 
terize them,  presented  him  w^ith  a  splendid  gold  medal, 
which  contained  nine  hundred  dollars'  worth  of  gold. 
Gottschalk  loved  this  medal  as  a  favourite  child  loves  the 
first  jewel  given  him  by  his  mother.  He  wrote  to  his 
mother  and  sisters  in  Paris:  "I  should  so  much  love  you 
to  see  it,  but  I  feel  myself  incapable  of  parting  with  it." 
The  medal  was  of  pure  gold,  of  a  circular  form,  and  massive. 
It  had  upon  one  side  an  elegantly  executed  head  and  bust 
of  Gottschalk  encircled  in  a  wreath  of  laurels,  and  upon 
the  reverse,  "  A  L.  M.  Gottschalk,  ses  Compatriotes  de  la 
Xouvelle  Orleans,  11  Mai,  1853." 

After  remaining  a  short  time  in  Xew  Orleans,  he  crossed 
over  to  Cuba.     Here  he  met  with  a  warm  reception.     In- 


68  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

vited  to  the  palace  by  the  Captain  General,  he  found  that 
his  fame  had  preceded  him.  After  giving  several  concerts, 
he  returned  again  to  New  York.  In  October,  1854,  a  short 
time  before  giving  a  concert  in  Boston,  he  received  a  tele- 
gram announcing  his  father's  death.  He  resolved  to  play 
rather  than  disappoint  the  public ;  but,  as  the  fact  had 
become  known,  a  gloom  was  cast  over  the  audience,  who 
greatly  sympathized  with  him,  and  for  the  most  part  kept 
silence,  although,  as  it  was  afterward  said,  "  the  master- 
spirit shone  out  far  more  brightly  than  before."  At  the 
close  of  the  concert,  he  immediately  left  for  ISTew  Orleans. 
After  the  burial  of  his  father,  an  examination  of  the  estate 
proved  it  to  be  insolvent.  He  at  once  resolved  to  pay  his 
father's  debts,  and  his  earliest  earnings  were  devoted  to 
this  purpose,  which  was  in  time  accomplished.  A  more 
noble  act  of  filial  devotion  is  seldom  met  with. 

In  1855  he  published  'The  Last  Hope,' ' Le  Chant  du 
Soldat,' '  La  Marche  de  Nuit,' '  La  Jota  Arragonesa,' '  Jeru- 
salem,' '  Les  Souvenirs  d'Andalousie,' '  La  Valse  Poetique,' 
etc. 

From  1855  to  1856  he  gave  no  less  than  eighty  concerts 
in  New  York,  the  last  of  which  was  as  brilliant  as  the 
first. 

On  the  2d  of  November,  1856,  his  mother  was  seized 
with  apoplexy,  and  fell  dead.  This  was  a  terrible  blow  to 
him,  for  he  idolized  his  mother,  and  was  never  tired  of 
speaking  of  her  beauty,  wit,  grace,  and  accomplishments. 
Gottschalk  always  insisted,  when  in  Paris,  that  his  mother 
should  attend  his  concerts,  that  he  might  have  the  benefit 
of  her  criticisms,  which  were  always  just.  At  such  times 
he  would  make  his  brothers  and  sisters  sit  in  the  front 
row ;  but  the  mother  would  retire  into  some  obscure  cor- 
ner, as  she  could  never  listen  to  her  son's  playing  without 
shedding  tears.  She  possessed  a  wonderful  memory,  and 
had  been  taught  by  her  uncle.  Count  Casimir  Moreau  de 
I'Islet,  a  gifted  and  most  learned  lawyer  of  New  Orleans,  to 
recite  pieces  from  the  French  tragedians. 

In  1856  he  again  returned  to  the  Antilles,  in  company 
with  Adelina  Patti,  then  only  14  years  of  age.  He  visited 
with  her  Havana,  Santiago  de  Cuba,  Porto  Principe,  Porto 
Rico,  etc.    He  composed  '  Columbia,'  '  La  Marche  Solen- 


GIFT  TO  HOSPITALS.  69 

nelle/'Les  Yeux  Creoles,'  'La  Chute  des  FeuilleH/'La 
Gitanella,'  '  Minuit  k  yeville,'  etc.  Feeling  the  necessity 
of  rest,  he  retired  to  a  friend's  plantation  at  Matouba. 
Here  he  composed  '  Le  Fantome  de  Bonheur,' '  Polonia,' 
and  '  Pastorella  e  Cavagliere.' 

Again  we  find  him  at  Havana,  where  he  was  idolized. 
Here  he  organized  a  great  festival,  in  which  800  musicians 
performed  under  his  direction  his  beautiful  symphony  of 
'La  Kuit  des  Tropiques,'  which  was  received  with  raj)- 
turous  applause. 

While  here,  learning  that  Queen  Isabella  had  founded 
four  hospitals,  he  remitted  to  Spain  15,000  reals.  This 
gave  rise  to  the  following  correspondence,  of  which  we  give 
a  translation. 

Government  op  the  Province  op  Valladolid. 

Mr.  Minister  :  The  Chevalier  Louis  Moreau  Gottschalk  de  Bnisle,  a 
pianist  celebrated  in  Europe,  having  read  in  the  *MoniteurOffic'iel,'  that 
H.  M.  the  Queen,  our  mistress  (may  God  protect  her),  had  decreed  the 
foundation  of  four  hospitals,  one  of  which  will  bear  the  august  name  of 
the  most  serene  Infanta,  and  desiring  to  second  a  project  as  praiseworthy  as 
elevated,  has  placed  at  the  disposition  of  my  government  the  sum  of  15,000 
reals. 

H.  M.,  whose  protection  for  the  arts  has  ever  shown  itself  so  enlightened, 
has  deigned  to  decorate  many  prominent  artists  who  have  thus  been  able 
to  carry  to  their  country  an  indelible  mark  of  the  admiration  which  they 
had  excited.  One  of  the  first  pianists,  if  not  the  first  to-day  in  Europe, 
M.  Gottschalk  has,  besides,  an  elevated  heart  and  an  enlightened  charity ; 
besides  what  he  places  at  this  time  at  the  disposition  of  the  hospital,  his 
alms  are  numerous  and  considerable.  I  beg  then  to  propose  to  Your  Excel- 
lency to  submit,  for  the  approbation  of  Her  Majesty,  a  decree  which  names 
him  Chevalier  of  the  Order  of  Nobility  of  Charles  III.  or  of  Saint  John. 

God  protect  Your  Excellency  for  length  of  years. 

Valladolid,  29  April,  1864. 

His  Excellency  J.  Guena,  Governor,  to  His  Excellency 
the  Minister  of  State,  Marquis  de  Miraflores. 

The  title  of  Caballero  (Chevalier)  of  the  royal  and  distin- 
guished order  of  Charles  III.  was  bestowed  on  Gottschalk 
by  Queen  Isabella,  and  a  diploma  of  the  said  institution 
and  title  bearing  date  the  ninth  day  of  September,  1864, 
was  forwarded  to  him  in  Xew  York,  together  w^ith  the 
order  set  with  diamonds. 

After  an  absence  of  nearly  six  years,  he  received  an  offer 
from  Max  Strakosch  to  make  a  tour  of  the  United  States, 
which  he  accepted,  and  once  more  he  is  found  in  Xew  York, 


70  BIOGRAPHIOAL  SKETCH. 

where  his  first  concert  under  the  engagenxent  was  given 
on  the  11th  of  February.  186  2.  Under  this  engagement, 
he  traversed  the  New  England,  Middle,  and  Western 
States,  and  Canada;  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  and 
as  far  south  as  IN'orfolk,  Virginia.  It  was  the  period  of  the 
civil  war,  and  he  could  not  go  further  south.  He  gave 
more  than  1100  concerts  in  three  years.  At  Saratoga,  he 
gave  a  concert  for  the  benefit  of  the  soldiers,  and  during 
his  progress  very  many  for  the  poor. 

While  in  lN"ew  York,  after  his  return  from  Cuba  in  1862, 
his  brother  Edward,  then  residing  in  Paris,  was  taken  ill, 
and  appeared  to  be  going  rapidly  into  a  decline.  He  was 
a  young  man  of  remarkable  genius,  not  only  for  music,  but 
for  drawing  and  languages;  but,  unfortunately ,  of  no  appli- 
cation, and  of  so  retiring  a  disposition  that  he  was.never 
willing,  when  he  assisted  his  brother  at  public  concerts, 
that  his  name  should  appear.  His  sisters,  who  had  re- 
moved from  Paris  to  London,  hearing  that  he  was  seriously 
ill,  sent  for  him.  On  his  arrival,  they  were  so  alarmed 
at  his  appearance,  that  they  immediately  wrote  Gott- 
schalk  that  they  would  send  Edward  to  him.  When  the 
vessel  in  which  he  had  taken  passage  reached  ITew  York, 
he  was  unable  to  leave  his  berth.  Gottschalk,  who  had 
been  awaiting  his  arrival,  had  him  taken  immediately  to 
his  hotel,  called  in  the  best  physicians,  nursed  him  with  the 
greatest  tenderness,  watched  over  him  as  a  mother  would 
her  sick  child,  and  left  nothing  undone  that  might  restore 
his  health.  As  soon  as  the  weather  became  warm — ^he  had 
arrived  in  February — he  took  him  to  the  seaside,  and  would 
himself  carry  him  to  and  from  the  beach.  At  night  he  had 
his  bed  placed  alongside  of  his  brother's,  whose  failing^ 
breath  did  not  permit  him  to  speak  above  a  whisper,  anS. 
placing  his  hand  in  his  would  thus  pass  the  night.  It,  how- 
ever, was  unavailing,  though  his  life  was  prolonged  until 
the  autumn.  For  three  days  before  his  death,  Gottschalk 
was  constantly  with  him,  and  on  the  27th  of  September, 
1863,  he  died  in  his  arms,  the  last  rites  of  the  Catholic 
Church  having  been  administered  to  him  by  Doctor  Cum- 
mins, of  !N'ew  Y  ork. 

In  1865,  Gottschalk  left  San  Francisco  for  South  America. 
He  had  long  wished  to  visit  it,  and  particularly  Rio  Janeiro. 


VISITS  SOUTH  AMERICA.  71 

But  his  mother  was  exceedingly  averse  to  it,  as  she  had  a 
presentiment  that  he  would  die  there,  and  that  she  should 
never  see  him  again.  During  her  life,  he  acceded  to  her 
request,  but  now  she  was  dead  he  cast  aside  what  he  thought 
only  a  superstitious  notion  of  his  mother,  and  determined 
to  indulge  his  long-cherished  desire. 

He  reached  Lima,  and,  in  turn,  other  portions  of  South 
America;  everywhere  successful,  everywhere  feted,  every- 
where lavishing  his  talents  and  money  for  the  poor  and 
distressed.  Montevideo  and  Buenos  Ayres  had  been  visited 
by  the  cholera.  He  gave  concerts  for  the  German,  the 
French,  and  the  English  hospitals — ^for  the  orphans  from 
the  cholera,  and  for  the  purposes  of  public  education.  Flonil 
crowns  and  gold  medals  met  him  everywhere,  making  his 
life  a  complete  ovation. 

On  the  10th  of  May,  1869,  Gottschalk  reached  Rio 
Janeiro.  On  his  arrival,  he  was  invited  to  the  palace,  and 
received  from  the  Emperor  of  Brazil,  the  learned  and  ac- 
complished Dom  Pedro,  and  his  queen  and  family  marked 
attentions.  On  the  3d  of  June  he  was  taken  ill,  for  the 
first  time,  but  performed  on  that  evening.  On  the  5th  of 
August  he  was  so  ill  from  an  attack  of  yellow  fever  that 
it  was  rumoured  he  was  dying.  Fourteen  days  after  he  had 
so  far  recovered  as  to  be  able  to  make  short  trips  into  the 
countrv  to  recuperate. 

During  his  convalescence  he  wrote  a  letter  to  one  of  his 
friends,  of  which  the  following  is  a  translation : — 

Rio  Janeiro,  Angust,  1869. 

It  is  almost  a  phantom  that  writes  to  you..  I  have  been  very  danger- 
ously ill,  and  it  is  scarcely  a  week  that  I  am  convalescent.  In  the  night 
of  the  fifth  of  August,  I  really  t}i ought  of  eternity,  which  seemed  about  to 
open  upon  me.  My  physicians  say  it  was  yellow  fever.  However,  after 
having  despaired  of  my  life  for  forty-eight  hours  they  got  me  out  of  the 
mal  pasoj  which  I  dread  less  for  itself  than  because  it  would  separate  me, 
perhaps  forever,  from  those  I  love. 

I  have  met  with  a  reception  here  such  as  has  never  been  offered  to  any 
artist  in  this  country.  The  six  concerts  which  I  have  already  given  were 
all  crowded  to  such  a  degree  that  speculators  sold  boxes  at  the  door  at  a 
premium  of  $75. 

On  my  arrival  at  Rio— a  splendid  city,  with  the  most  marvellously  beau- 
tiful harbour  one  can  dream  of — the  Emperor  sent  me  his  chamberlain  to 
invite  me  to  the  palace.  His  Majesty  received  me  most  graciously.  We 
conversed,  standing,  in  the  great  reception-hall  for  five  minutes,  the  ordi- 


72  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

narj  limit  of  tliis  sort  of  ceremony.  Then  the  Emperor  told  me  that  the 
Empress  and  the  Princess  Imperial  wished  to  see  me,  and  I  was  consigned 
to  one  of  the  gentlemen  in  waiting,  who  conducted  me  to  the  Empress  and 
her. eldest  daughter.  They  also  were  most  gracious.  They  spoke  of  their 
desire  "  to  know  the  author  of  so  many  charming  compositions  with  which 
they  had  so  long  been  familiar."  After  taking  leave  of  the  Empress,  I 
was  again  sent  for  by  the  Emperor,  whom  I  found  in  a  small  boudoir  at 
the  extremity  of  his  apartments.  He  made  me  sit  down  beside  him,  say- 
ing that  he  wanted  to  have  a  long  chat  with  me.  We  did,  in  fact,  con- 
verse for  nearly  two  hours  on  politics,  travels,  the  United  States,  spiritual- 
ism, the  music  of  the  future,  Offenbach's  operettes,  fine  arts,  manners  and 
customs.  We  skimmed  over  many  subjects,  and  I  was  struck  by  the  ver- 
satility of  the  Emperor's  mind  and  the  extent  of  his  attainments.  He 
speaks  French  and  Italian  with  great  purity,  and  understands  perfectly 
English,  German,  and  Spanish.  Moreover,  he  is  a  savant.  The  Emperor 
and  the  Imperial  family  have  been  present  at  all  ray  concerts.  I  have 
been  to  see  His  Majesty  several  times,  and  have  always  been  received  in 
his  intimacy.  He  treats  me  as  a  friend,  as  well  as  the  Empress,  who 
indulges  herselfi  with  speaking  Italian  to  me.  She  is,  as  you  are  aware, 
a  Neapolitan,  a  sister  of  the  late  King  Bomba,  and  in  spite  of  twenty-two 
years  of  absence,  as  she  observed  to  me  with  a  smile,  *'  one  never  forgets 
la  cara pati'ia.^^ 

The  30th  of  July  the  Emperor  gave  a  soiree  in  honour  of  myself  at  his 
palace  of  San  Christorao.  It  was  the  first  time  that  I  played  at  Court. 
At  all  my  previous  visits,  the  Emperor  had  always  had  the  delicacy  to 
refrain  from  asking  me  to  play,  saying  that  his  piano  was  unworthy  of  me. 
At  his  request  I  sent  my  two  grand  pianos  to  the  palace  for  the  soiree.  The 
reunion  was  of  an  intimate  character — only  some  150  persons  besides  the 
ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  Court*  I  played  nine  times.  The  Emperor 
asked  for  my  fantasia  on  the  Brazilian  national  hymn  and  my  *  Tremolo' 
(Etude).  The  Princess  Imperial  requested  me  to  play  my  *  Morte,'  which 
had  a  success  of  tears,  and  *  Pens^e  poetique.'  The  Empress  asked  for 
*Ojos  Creoles,'  for  four  hands.  The  soiree  terminated  at  4  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  the  Emperor,  Empress,  and  the  Princess  conversing  the  whole 
time  familiarly  with  their  guests.  His  Majesty  wishing  to  have  some 
details  on  the  Mormons,  I  was  enabled  to  satisfy  him  completely  as  I  had 
just  read  Dixon's  *  New  America.'  When  I  left  him,  I  was  overheated  by 
the  atmosphere  of  the  drawing-room,  and  I  had  to  wait  some  time  for  my 
carriage.  It  was  raining.  I  took  a  chill,  and  the  next  day  fever  came  on. 
It  increased  until  the  5th  of  August,  when,  as  I  told  you,  the  physicians 
despaired  of  my  life.  The  papers  gave  daily  bulletins  of  my  condition, 
and  more  than  two  hundred  people  called  every  day  to  inquire  how  I  was. 
On  the  5th  of  August  it  was  rumoured  that  I  was  dying.  Toward  8  o'clock 
in  the  evening  a  carriage  rolled  up  to  my  door,  and  a  chamberlain  of  their 
Majesties  was  introduced  into  my  room.  He  came  officially  to  inquire  after 
me  on  behalf  of  the  Emperor  and  Empress.  At  this  critical  moment,  when 
I  felt  that  my  life  was  hanging  only  by  a  thread,  I  could  not  help  think- 
ing of  the  vanity  of  human  things.  Riveted  to  a  bed  of  sickness  in  a  foreign 
land,  I  heard  confusedly  thel'  words  of  condolence  which  the  honest  cham- 
berlain recited  on  the  part  of  the  Emperor,  while  his  gold  lacings  glittered 
beside  me.  At  the  same  time,  in  the  midst  of  the  fervid  cloud  with  which 
fever  seemed  to  envelop  me,  I  fancied  I  saw  the  grim  face  of  death  hurry- 
ing me  away  from  the  pomps  and  vanities  of  this  world.     It  was  philo- 


GERMANS  AND  FREEMASONS.  73 

sophical  and — distressing  in  proportion.  No  friends,  save  my  faithful  Fir- 
miu  ;  no  family  ;  no  loved  hand  to  clasp  mine  and  to  make  me  feel  in  one 
last  pressure  that  my  life  was  still  dear  to  some  one.  But  I  wax  absurd 
and  dismal. 

The  philharmonic  societies  and  the  musical  clubs  have  sent  me  diplomas 
of  honorary  membership.  The  Germans,  who,  in  all  my  travels  through- 
out South  America,  have  always  formed  the  most  solid  part  of  my  audi- 
ences,  thanks  to  their  traditional  love  of  music,  have  not  deserted  me 
here  either.  The  German  Choral  Society,  although  exclusively  composed 
of  amateurs,  sang  at  my  first  three  concerts.  These  Germans  have  really 
the  monopoly  of  choral  music.  They  sang  the  *  Hunter's  Chorus'  from 
*  Der  Freischutz'  at  my  second  concert  with  a  brio  and  fire  that  electrified 
the  audience.  They  are  led  by  an  excellent  musician,  who  is  moreover  a- 
distinguished  and  modest  man — Mr.  Tipke.  I  met  him  some  twelve  years 
ago  at  Springfield. 

The  Freemasons  have  invited  me  to  visit  their  *  Grand  Orient.*  On 
the  day  appointed  for  the  reception,  a  deputation  came  for  me,  and  I  was 
introduced  with  all  the  ceremony  of  solemn  occasions.  The  discourse  of 
the  Grand  Master  breathed  a  fervent  love  for  American  institutions.  All 
the  lodges  of  Rio  were  represented  by  deputations.  In  these  countries, 
where  the  soul  is  as  ardent  as  the  clime,  everything  is  new  and  picturesque 
to  the  stranger  who  observes.  Freemasonry  exists  here  in  all  the  fervour  of 
its  palmiest  days.  Each  deputation  made  its  entrance  with  its  banners. 
The  costumes  were  singularly  interesting.  A  few  lodges  have  adopted  the 
dress  of  the  Franciscans,  but  it  is  sky-blue ;  others  wear  flowing  white 
draperies  ;  others,  again,  are  clad  in  long  black  mantles  embroidered  with 
death's  heads,  and  with  a  large  black  hood,  the  effect  of  which  is  phan- 
tasmagoric and  conducive  to  nightmare. 

The  clergy  who  direct  the  Imperial  College  of  Alcantara  have  also  given 
me  a  public  reception.  The  600  pupils  of  the  college  formed  on  a  line  as  I 
arrived.  The  professors  and  fathers  came  to  receive  me  with  a  band  of 
music.  All  the  college  met  at  the  banquet.  The  president  addressed  me 
a  discourse  which  was  well  conceived  and  well  delivered.  He  spoke,  as 
usual,  of  the  *  great  Republic,'  for  the  United  States,  particularly  since 
the  war,  are  the  object  of  the  enthusiasm  of  all  South  America,  which  is 
proud  of  the  Monroe  doctrine  and  of  the  Americanism  to  which  it  has  given 
rise.  Moreover,  I  believe  that  all  these  South  American  Republics  under- 
stand that,  sooner  or  later,  the  United  States  will  be  the  arbiter  of  their 
fate,  and  Brazil,  although  ruled  by  monarchical  institutions,  is,  in  point 
of  fact,  the  most  liberal  of  all  these  countries,  and  the  most  disposed  to 
avail  itself  of  the  impulse  we  have  given  to  civilization. 

But  after  the  discourse  of  the  president  I  was  expected  to  reply,  and 
this  was  the  hardest  thing  for  me.  You  know  how  awkward  I  am  for 
everything  outside  of  music.  Fortunately,  I  had  taken  a  glass  of  cham- 
pagne (which  I  execrate),  and  i'  faith,  I  fired  my  ships.  I  chose  Spanish 
for  my  speech,  as  it  is  the  language  which  has  most  analogy  with  Portu- 
guese, and  every  one  here  understands  it.  It  appears  I  did  not  acquit 
myself  too  badly,  for  some  of  the  papers  went  such  lengths  as  to  speak  or 
my  eloquence  I 

Some  of  the  papers  have  announced  *th at  I  perished  in  the  earthquake. 
I  beg  you  to  believe  that  this  is  not  so.  I  have  no  more  perished  than  I 
have  been  married,  which  is  another  piece  of  news  the  papers  circulate 
when  they  lack  *'copy." 

7 


74  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

I  returned  last  night  from  Valenza,  a  small  town  in  the  mountains  of 
Barremansa.  The  J'azenderos  of  the  place  and  its  environs  had  made  up 
a  subscription  of  $700  and  asked  me  to  give  them  a  concert.  The  dis- 
tance was  inconsiderable — four  or  five  hours  by  rail — my  physician  ordered 
a  change  of  air ;  I  complied.  The  town  is  surrounded  by  lofty  mountains 
and  virgin  forests.  The  word  virgin  is  here  in  its  literal  sense,  for  these 
woods  are  so  dense  that  the  inhabitants,  finding  it  impossible  to  clear 
them,  have  adopted  the  barbarous  plan  of  setting  fire  to  them  whenever 
they  wish  to  enlarge  their  property.  At  night  their  dark  summits  are 
crowned  with  flames,  reminding  one  of  Vesuvius  or  Etna.  The  ettect  is 
magnificent.  But  there  are  times  when  the  fierce  element  will  not  stop  at 
the  limit  assigned  it,  and,  retracing  its  steps,  devours  the  fazenda  of  him 
who  kindled  it.  This  might  afford  a  theme  for  a  poem  to  some  moralizing 
rhymer.  The  people  of  Valenza  were  looking  for  me  with  impatience,  and 
the  equipage  of  the  town  (the  only  one)  awaited  me  at  the  station.  As 
soon  as  the  carriage  came  in  sight  a  rocket  was  fired  from  the  top  of  the 
church.  It  appears  this  was  the  signal  to  announce  my  advent.  They 
had  engaged  a  band  of  music  to  delight  my  ears,  and  it  was  arranged  that 
it  should  meet  me  at  the  door  of  the  house  prepared  for  my  reception.  But 
owing  to  some  mishap,  or  perhaps  from  the  fact  of  the  rocket  having  escaped 
the  vigilance  of  the  musicians,  when  I  alighted  from  the  carriage  a 
clarionet,  a  cornet,  and  a  big  drum  were  alone  forthcoming.  This,  however, 
did  not  prevent  their  attacking  conscientiously  a  romantic-eccentric  sym- 
phony in  a  key  that  would  have  defied  and  set  at  naught  the  harmonic  sci- 
ence of  M.  Fetis  himself.  I  made  my  appearance  on  the  balcony,  and  had 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  a  trombone  running  up  with  all  his  might,  a  flute 
all  out  of  breath  turning  the  corner,  and  a  bassoon  in  hot  haste,  who  suc- 
cessively joined  their  more  diligent  comrades,  and  completed  the  orchestra 
of  the  grand  occasions  of  Valenza. 

On  September  11  Gottschalk  again  returned  to  Rio,  and 
continued  his  concerts,  among  others  those  on  the  5th,  8th, 
and  11th  of  October,  at  which  sixteen  pianos  were  used ; 
after  which  he  began  his  work  for  the  festival.  During 
these  herculean  labours  he  gave  three  concerts,  on  the  12th, 
15th,  and  18th  of  JSTovember.  On  the  24th  of  November 
he  gave  the  first  festival,  with  six  hundred  and  fifty 
musicians.  The  house  had  been  bought  up  at  double 
rates,  and  proved  a  great  success.  On  the  morning  of  the 
25th  the  second  concert  was  advertised  to  take  place  the 
following  evening,  at  the  usual  prices.  The  seats  were  all 
sold  on  the  day  of  announcement,  and  many  boxes  were 
taken  for  the  third.  But  on  the  26th  he  became  seriously 
ill  and  remained  abed.  When  evening  came,  with  iron 
will,  he  resolved  not  to  disappoint  the  public.  After  the 
performance  of  a  comedietta,  Gottschalk  took  his  place 
at  the  piano  for  the  performance  of  '  Morte,'  his  favourite 


LAST  CONCERT.  75 

piece.  Hardly  had  he  commenced  when  he  fell  uncon- 
scious in  a  swoon.  He  was  at  once  conveyed  to  his  home, 
and  complained  of  great  pains  in  his  abdomen.  He 
was  immediately  attended  by  one  of  the  best  physicians 
of  Eio.  On  the  2d  of  December,  at  his  request,  a  second 
physician  was  called  in,  but  the  remedies  applied  proved 
unavailing.  On  December  8th  he  was  induced  to  have 
himself  conveyed  to  Tijuca,  a  plateau  some  two  or  three 
miles  from  Rio.  He  seemed  to  improve.  On  the  14th  an 
internal  abscess  broke,  which  afforded  some  relief;  but  he 
had  become  so  weak  that,  on  the  morning  of  the  18th,  he 
yielded  up  his  life. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


GoTTSCHALK  died  at  4  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  18th 
of  December,  1869,  and  the  following  notice  of  his  death 
appeared  in  the  Jomal  da  Tarde  of  the  same  date. 

The  great  artist  is  dead  I  At  4  o'clock  this  morning,  after  prolonged 
snfferiiigs,  Gottschalk  breathed  his  last — victim  of  that  art  to  which  he 
had  consecrated  the  choicest  years  of  his  life.  One  more  stone  for  the 
temple  of  immortality,  one  more  star  to  shine  in  the  firmament  of  the 
elect  of  God.  The  sepulchre  may  conceal  his  body,  but  it  cannot  hide  his 
name,  which  not  even  coming  ages  shall  have  the  power  to  obliterate. 

Still  are  sounding  in  our  ears  the  echoing  harmonies  of  that  final  con- 
cert, last  song  of  the  dying  swan,  solemn  and  majestic  as  the  sound  of  his 
own  fame.  Son  of  that  giant  country  which  will  yet  dictate  laws  to  the 
world,  Gottschalk  was  a  universal  celebrity. 

Geniuses  have  no  fatherland.  In  speaking  of  great  poets,  the  world 
is  their  country,  and  all  ages  claim  them.  He  was  born  in  America,  and 
though  he  had  visited  many  lands,  fate  still  destined  that  on  American 
soil  he  should  find  his  last  resting  place.  Gifted  with  rare  endowments  of 
intellect,  not  less  conspicuous  were  the  qualities  of  his  heart. 

The  muse  of  Gottschalk  was  ever  employed  in  the  noblest  of  objects. 
To  alleviate  suffering  was  with  him  a  constant  practice,  as  it  was  also  his 
delight.  How  many  times  has  it  dried  the  tears  of  orphans  1  How  has 
it  tempered  the  grief  of  the  widow  I  Many  concerts  were  given  by  him 
in  aid  of  different  benevolent  societies,  and  the  numerous  medals  which 
he  had  received  were  the  most  convincing  proofs  of  his  charity  and  intel- 
ligence.    The  public  then  of  this  capital  should  go  to-morrow  to  pay  the 


76  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

debt  of  gratitude  they  owe  to  Gottschalk,  shedding  unfeigned  tears  upon 
thQ  tomb  that  is  to  inclose  the  remains  of  a  great  man. 

Immediately  after  his  death  his  body  was  removed  to  Rio 
by  the  Philharmonic  Society,  of  which  he  was  a  member. 
The  following  account  of  his  funeral  is  taken  from  the 
'Eeforma'  of  the  21st  December: — 

The  funeral  of  Gottschalk  was  a  splendid  public  manifestation.  The 
Philharmonic  Society  had  claimed  the  honour  of  guarding  the  precious  re- 
mains of  the  great  artist  until  the  time  of  burial.  It  was  an  act  of  con- 
sideration and  artistic  fraternity,  which  did  honour  alike  to  the  Society  and 
the  country.  The  body  was  embalmed  at  the  expense  of  the  same  Society 
by  Dr.  Costa  Ferros,  who  gratuitously  oflfered  his  services. 

Day  before  yesterday,  up  to  the  hour  of  the  ceremony,  the  body  lay 
in  state  in  one  of  the  principal  halls  of  the  Society,  appropriately  decorated. 
Near  by  was  seen,  covered  with  crape,  the  piano  upon  which  Gottschalk 
had  played  for  the  last  time,  on  the  night  of  the  26th  ult.  Previous  to 
removing  the  body  the  orchestra  of  the  Society  performed  the  *  Morte,'  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  and  touching  compositions  of  the  great  artist.  The 
coffin  was  carried  by  hand  as  far  as  Larga  da  Lapa,  preceded  and  followed 
by  hundreds  of  persons  of  all  classes  bearing  torches.  A  band  of  music 
led  the  way.  The  streets  and  squares  were  crowded.  Sadness  marked  the 
faces  of  all,  and  many  eyes  were  bathed  in  tears. 

In  the  cemetery  of  San  Jose  Baptlsta  the  press  of  people  was  even 
still  greater.  Here,  in  the  midst  of  profound  silence,  was  spoken  the  last, 
sad  farewell  to  the  remains  of  one  of  the  greatest  artists  of  our  time.  Dr. 
Achilles  Varejao  and  the  distinguished  Academician  of  La  Paulo,  Senhor 
Antonio  Cordozo  de  Manezes,  made  themselves  the  interpreters  of  the  gene- 
ral grief.    They  spoke  with  trembling  voices,  and  were  heard  amid  tears. 

Mr.  Henry  Prealle,  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  says : — 

In  all  the  years  I  have  lived  in  Rio,  be  he  foreigner  or  countryman, 
the  death  of  no  man  produced  so  much  lamentation  as  that  of  the  never-to- 
be-excelled  artist,  Gottschalk  ;  he,  himself,  while  living,  though  we  showed 
constant  proofs,  never  dreamt  that  he  was  so  loved  and  honoured  here ; 
and  even  to-day,  the  sixth  after  his  death,  the  only  talk  of  this  city  of 
400,000  inhabitants  is  about  this  deplorable  loss. 

He  leaves  many  unpublished  works,  including  three  operas,  one  of  which, 
*  Isaura  de  Salerno,'  was  his  favourite  composition,  and  upon  which  he 
constantly  worked  to  perfect  it. 

His  intentions  were,  after  leaving  Brazil,  to  visit  Europe, 
and  he  had  made  an  engagement  with  an  English  impres- 
sario  for  the  purpose  of  giving  a  series  of  concerts  in  Great 
Britain.  He  also  intended  to  bring  out  his  unpublished 
compositions. 


DEATH  AND  FUNERAL.  77 

As  soon  as  the  tidings  of  his  death  reached  his  sisters  in 
London,  they  immediately,  although  nearly  broken-hearted, 
made  arrangements  to  return  to  their  native  country.  On 
their  arrival  in  Kew  York,  where  they  found  their  only 
surviving  brother,  Gaston,  recently  returned  from  Mexico, 
awaiting  them,  the  first  thoughts  of  all  of  them  were 
turned  towards  having  the  remains  of  their  brother  brought 
to  the  United  States.  After  many  difficulties,  the  body 
eventually  reached  Ifew  York  in  the  steamer  Merrimac 
from  Rio,  after  having  been  detained  for  some  days  at 
quarantine.  On  landing  it  was  conveyed  to  St.  Stephen's 
Church,  on  28th  St.  On  the  3d  of  October,  1870,  while 
the  heavens  were  dral)ed  in  clouds  and  drowned  in  tears, 
a  vast  and  sympathetic  concourse  assembled  in  St.  Stephen's 
Church,  to  do  honour  to  his  sanctified  dust,  and  witness  the 
imposing  ceremonies  of  the  Catholic  Church,  which  con- 
signed him  to  his  final  resting  place. 

The  grand  altar  was  draped  with  crape.  The  coffin, 
covered  with  a  heavy  black  pall,  and  profusely  strewn  with 
flowers  wrought  into  various  appropriate  devices,  was  placed 
upon  a  catafalque  at  the  foot  of  the  centre  aisle,  with  stands 
of  candles  at  its  head  and  foot.  The  priests  all  wore  their 
mourning  vestments. 

The  music,  out  of  respect  for  the  most  eminent  pianist 
and  composer  this  country  has  produced,  was  Cheru- 
bini's  grand  requiem  mass  in  C.  minor.  The  mass  was  sung 
from  the  original  score  as  a  full  chorus  throughout.  The 
piece  sung  at  the  offertory  of  the  mass  was  a  recent  ar- 
rangement for  the  occasion  by  his  sister.  Miss  Clara  Gott- 
schalk,  herself  an  eminent  pianist  and  composer,  from  'La 
Solitude'  and  'Last  Hope,'  two  of  the  great  composer's 
most  popular  productions.  As  an  interlude,  'Pensee 
Poetique'  was  given  with  great  effect. 

At  the  close  of  the  service, '  Morte'  was  performed  during 
the  removal  of  the  body. 

The  metallic  case  in  which  the  remains  were  brought 
from  South  America  was  inclosed  in  a  beautiful  mahogany 
coffin,  upon  the  lid  of  w^ich  was  a  plain  silver  plate  with 
the  inscription: — 

7* 


78  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

Louis  Moreau  Gottschalk, 
Died  December  18,  1869, 
Aged  40  years. 

The  body  was  met  at  the  church  door  by  that  of  Ed- 
ward's, taken  from  Calvary  Cemetery.  The  two  were  then 
conveyed  to  Greenwood,  and  deposited  in  the  vault  pre- 
pared for  them — side  by  side. 

•  A  magnificent  monument,  made  of  the  finest  white 
marble,  was  erected  to  his  memory.  On  the  pedestal  rests 
the  figure  of  an  angel ;  in  one  hand  she  holds  a  book,  on 
whose  white  pages  are  graven: — 

Bananier,  Marche  de  Nuit, 

Last  Hope,  Dernier  Amour, 

Murmures  Eoliens,        Morte  I  I 

In  the  other  hand  is  the  trumpet  of  fame. 
•  At  her  feet  lies  a  marble  lyre,  with  its  chords  broken. 
The  pedestal  bears  the  following  inscription  in  front: — 

In  loving  memory  of 

Louis  Moreau  Gottschalk, 

the  celebrated  American  Pianist 

and  Composer. 

Born  in  New  Orleans,  Louisiana, 

8th  May,  1829, 

Died  in  Rio  Janeiro,  Brazil, 

18  Dec.  1869, 

Aged  40  years. 

His  noble  heart  and  generosity  made  him  beloved  by  all,  and  to  his  sis- 
ters and  brother,  by  whom  this  monument  is  erected,  in  all  love  and  grati- 
tude, he  ever  was  the  best  and  most  loving  of  brothers. 

On  the  base  of  the  monument: — 

Time  will  never  erase  the  remembrance  of  his  noble  deeds  and  genius. 

On  the  other  side: — 

9 

Also  to  the  loving  memory  of  Edward  George  Gottschalk,  born  in  New 
Orleans,  Louisiana,  14  December,  1836,  died  in  New  York,  28  September, 
1863,  aged  27  years.    He  bore  his  sufferings  with  patience  and  resignation. 

Wherever  Gottschalk  appeared  the  muse  of  poetry  be- 
came inspired.  "From  Switzerland  to  Rio  piece  after  piece 
of  poetry  was  dedicated  to  him.  They  would  fill  quite  a 
volume.    In  truth,  it  might  be  said,  that  wherever  he  made 


GOTTSCBALK  AS  A  MAN.  79 

hia  appearance  poetry,  flowers,  and  crowns  were  bestowed 
upon  him.  He  was  presented  with  three  orders — that  of 
Chevalier  de  TOrdre  civil  et  militaire  du  Lion  de  Hoi* 
stein-Lirabourg  ^night  of  the  Civil  and  Military  Order 
of  the  Lion  oir  Holstein-Limbourg),  of  the  royal  and  dis- 
tinguished Order  of  Isabella  the  Catholic,  and  of  Caballero 
de  iSL  Beal  y  distinguide  Orden  de  Carlou  Tercero. 


POSTHUMOUS  CRITICISMS. 

GOTTSCHALK  AS  A  MAN. 

The  following  article,  under  the  signature  of  'Figaro,' 
we  extract  from  the  'is^ew  York  Leader,'  1870: — 

AU  I  remember  about  Gottschalk  moraUy  is,  that  he  was  more  than 
generous  to  both  friend  and  foe ;  that  his  charities  were  without  limit  or 
stint ;  that  he  always  had  an  open  heart  and  an  open  hand  for  his  brother 
artists ;  that  he  was  devoted  to  the  last  drop  of  his  blood  to  his  family  ; 
that  he  was  passionately  fond  of  children  ;  that  he  never  prostituted  his 
art  to  base  purposes  ;  that  he  loved  his  country  best  in  her  darkest  hour ; 
that  his  devotion  to  truth  in  every  department  of  art  and  science  was  an 
absolute  worship ;  and,  finally,  that  I  never  heard  him  speak  ill  of  any 
human  being. 

I  knew  Gottschalk  pretty  intimately,  and  have  had  many  a  good  time 
with  him. 

He  was  the  man  to  have  a  good  time  with. 

What  he  was  musically  the  world  knows  ;  what  he  was  socially  is 
known  to  comparatively  few. 

All  things  oonsidered,  I  think  he  was  the  most  companionable  man  and 
the  best  talker  I  ever  knew. 

He  was  also  a  splendid  listener,  that  is,  when  there  was  anything  worth 
listening  to. 

He  wouldn't  listen  to  twaddle,  of  course  ;  Jie  didn't  consider  it  polite 
to  do  so. 

Gottschalk  was  a  splendid  gossiper,  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word,  but 
he  couldn't  twaddle  if  he  tried. 

He  was  also  what  the  French  call  a  good  raconteur^  that  is,  a  good  re- 
counter  or  story-teller. 

None  better. 

And,  by  the  way,  he  generally  told  his  stories  in  French,  and,  in  fact, 
never  spoke  nor  wrote  English  (though  he  knew  it  well)  except  obliged  to. 

Still  he  used  not  only  the  English,  but  the  German,  the  Italian,  and 
the  Spanish  with  great  facility,  both  in  speaking  and  writing. 


80  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

And  he  was  familiar ,  too,  with  the  literature  of  those  languages — ^not 
only  the  light  literature,  hut  the  speculative  and  philosophical. 

These  accomplishments  were  largely  drawn  upon  in  his  writings  and 
conversation,  and  you  can  conceive  with  what  brilliant  results. 

His  favorite  topic,  strange  to  say,  was  not  art,  hut  social  and  political 
science. 

You  would  hardly  think  Gottschalk  was  a  politician,  would  you  ? 

Yet  he  waSy  and  a  very  positive  one. 

He  didn't  belong  to  any  party,  to  be  sure,  but  his  principles  were  very 
settled  for  all  that. 

For  example,  he  was  an  out-and-out  free-trader,  an  opponent  to  mon- 
archy in  all  countries,  and  an  anti-slavery  man  (though  born  in  the 
South)  to  the  backbone. 

Early  during  the  Rebellion,  at  one  of  his  concerts  in  Canada,  the  audi- 
ence (all  *  Secesh'  nearly)  called  upon  him,  after  he  had  played  *  Hail 
Columbia,'  to  give  them,  as  an  offset,  *  Dixie.' 

For  a  long  time  Gottschalk  refused  to  make  any  response  ;  but  at  last, 
the  calls  getting  to  be  vociferous,  he  came  forward,  bowed  gracefully  to 
the  house,  seated  himself  at  the  piano,  and  played,  with  more  spirit  prob- 
ably than  he  ever  played  it  before,  the  air  of  *  Yankee  Doodle  'I 

He  wouldn't  have  played  *  Dixie'  just  then  and  there  to  save  his  life. 

And  yet  he  was  tolerant  of  all  opinions,  and  as  far  from  being  a  fanatic 
as  from  being  a  fool,  if  the  distinction  exists. 

It  has  been  no  slight  consolation  to  me  to  add  this  little  tribute  to  the 
memory  of  one  with  whom  I  have  spent  many,  many  delightful  hours, 
and  who  is  pleasantly  associated  in  my  mind  with  other  spirits  equally 
genial,  if  not  brilliant,  who  mourn  with  me  over  his  loss,  and  will  long 
remember,  with  feelings  of  love  and  admiration,  the  name  of  Louis 
MoREAU  Gottschalk. 


GOTTSCHALK  AS  COMPOSER  AND  PIANIST. 

The  following  musical  criticism,  written  by  Mr.  A.  Mar- 
montel,  the  great  composer  and  teacher,  of  the  Conserva- 
toire in  Pans,  is  taken  from  'Le  Menestrel'  of  June  10, 
1877.    It  appears  under  the  head  of  'Celebrated  Pianists.' 

The  sources  of  art  have  very  different  points  of  departure,  often  from 
concealed  and  mysterious  origins,  but  it  is  in  the  depths  of  the  soul  that 
the  vivifying  fire  is  most  frequently  found ;  thence  it  is  that  inspiration, 
impressionability,  imagination  draw  their  glory,  and  gain  their  expansive 
power.  The  composers  who  have  preceded  us  and  laid  the  first  founda- 
tions of  the  modern  school  have  little  known,  or  have  neglected  the  pic- 
turesque, descriptive,  ideal  side  so  much  in  vogue  in  our  days  ;  the  char- 
acter and  force  of  their  style  consisted  especially  in  good  exposition,  con- 
nection, and  perfect  development  of  ideas  ;  they  made  no  pretension  to 
the  art  of  painting,  and  contented  themselves  by  writing  purely  in  a 
harmonious  and  chastened  musical  tongue.  It  was  the  school  of  the 
logicians.  But  now  musical  art,  like  literature  and  painting,  has  discov- 
ered new  ways,  and  consists  of  different  sects :  idealistic,  realistic,  natu- 


GOTTSCHALK  AS  COMPOSER  AND  ARTIST.  81 

ralistic,  and  impressionalistic  schools.  We  have  also  our  representatives 
of  Orientalism,  Felicien  David,  Rejer,  and  Bizet,  whose  names  so  well 
respond  to  those  of  Decamps,  Marilhat,  and  Fromentin  ;  our  Neo-Greeks, 
like  Gounod,  Victor  Mass^,  and  Daprato,  who  recall  to  us  Hamon,  G6rdme, 
and  the  whole  archaic  school.  In  the  demand  for  composers  for  the  piano, 
there  has  risen  up  a  crowd  of  landscape-painters,  properly  so-called,  genre 
painters,  sentimentalists,  or  amateurs  of  the  picturesque.  Mendelssohn, 
Liszt,  Chopin,  Stephen  Heller,  Prudent,  Rosenhain,  Wolff,  Delioux,  Schu- 
loff,  etc.,  have  composed  numerous  characteristic  pieces,  veritable  bijoux 
of  descriptive  genre.  Poets,  musicians,  lovers  of  nature,  'thej  have  sung 
of  their  absent  home  or  of  their  lost  country,  by  translating  into  the  lan- 
guage of  sounds  the  manners,  character,  and  temperament  of  different 
nationalities. 

Gottschalk  merits  a  separate  place  in  this  school  for  his  individuality, 
his  distinction,  the  originality  of  his  compositions,  and  his  exceptional 
skill  in  art.  Without  having  been  the  disciple  either  of  Chopin  or  of 
Liszt,  Gottschalk  very  much  resembles  these  illustrious  masters  by  his 
fine,  delicate,  dreamy  temperament ;  surrounded,  like  Chopin,  from  his 
infancy  with  generous  affections  and  tender  cares,  born  and  reared  in 
aristocratic  society,  his  instruction  and  education  were  carefully  watched 
over.  I  need  not  relate  the  interesting  and  rcHnantic  episodes  which  drove 
the  grandparents  of  Gottschalk,  whose  maternal  ancestors  were  the  Count 
and  Countess  de  Brusl6,  from  St.  Domingo. 

The  name  of  Gottschalk  will  always  live  in  the  memory  of  his  friends. 
His  work  as  composer  brings  him  near  to  Chopin  ;  as  artist,  he  holds  a 
position  between  Liszt  and  Thalberg  ;  he  obtained  from  the  piano  very 
peculiar  effects  of  sonorousness  ;  his  play,  by  turns  nervous  and  of  extreme 
delicacy,  astonished  and  charmed,  he  used  the  pedals  with  great  ability, 
a  perfect  tact,  but  to  our  mind  he,  perhaps,  too  frequently  used  the  soft 
pedal.  Minute  critics  reproached  him  with  writing  his  fine  embroideries, 
his  delicate  arabesques  in  very  sharp  octaves  of  the  piano.  The  observa- 
tion is  just,  but  it  must  be  remarked  that  many  of  the  compositions  of 
Gottschalk  favour  by  the  rhythm  and  the  nature  of  the  ideas  these  effects 
of  shrill  sonorousness,  which  scintillate  in  the  harmonic  scale  of  sounds 
like  a  jet  of  electric  fire. 

Of  a  feverish  activity,  burning  to  write,  as  if  under  a  presentiment  of 
his  premature  death,  Gottschalk  published  in  a  few  years  a  relatively  con- 
siderable number  of  original  compositi^ons,  ingenious,  delicately  chiselled, 
and  of  such  finished  work  as  affirms  the  rare  conscience  of  the  artist. 
Notwithstanding  the  universal  infatuation  of  the  young  school  for  the 
powerful  sonorousness  and  the  processes  of  Thalberg,  Gottschalk  has  sac- 
rificed very  little  to  the  fondness  of  arpeggios,  which  for  a  long  time  had 
become  a  veritable  monomania,  at  the  point  even  of  fatiguing  the  inventor 
himself.  Gottschalk  knows  how  to  escape  from  this  fever  of  imitation,  and 
preserves  in  his  compositions  that  wholly  special  flavour  of  poetic  reverie, 
an  individual  character  eminently  original.  His  grand  fantasias  on 
*  Jerusalem,'  the  *God  Save  the  Queen,*  and  *Trovatore,'  perhaps  accuse 
him  of  being  a  little  under  the  influence  of  Thalberg,  but  they  are  an 
exception  ;  Gottschalk  oftenest  only  depends  on  his  personal  inspiration, 
and  on  memories  and  local  impressions,  remaining  sterile  before  him ;  soft 
melodies,  new  rhythms,  harmonious  murmurs,  a  whole  musical  world 
rendered  prolific  by  the  artist. 

*Le  Bamboula/  *le  Banjo,'  'Colombia,'  have  the  fixed   character  of 


82  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

national  airs,  but  Gottschalk  is  a  larger  and  completer  poet  in  his  nootnmes, 
elegies,  *Ossian,'  *  Reflets  du  passe,'  *Derniere  espiferance,'  'Ricordati,' 
'  Sospiro,'  *  Berceuse.*  The  tender,  moving,  passionate  note  vibrates 
delicately  in  these  chaste  poems  of  the  heart,  where  the  soul  of  the  artist 
pours  itself  out.  .  .  *  Chant  elegiaque,'  *Murmures  Eoliens,'  'Chute 
des  feuilles,'  U'Extase,'  'Dernier  Amour,'— all  these  pieces  have  an  infi- 
nite charm,  a  great  seal  of  individuality.  Gottschalk  again  has  excelled 
in  his  caprices  and  dancing  airs,  where,  perhaps,  he  is  more  absolutely 
himself.  The  liberty  of  gait  and  of  rhythm,  the  free  inspiration,  void 
of  all  parti-prisj  make  of  these  pieces  for  the  salon  and  concert  true 
bijoux,  finely  chiselled,  sparkling  like  precious  stones  with  wisely  cut 
facets.  Again  let  us  call  to  memory  *  I'Etincelle,'  *  les  FoUets,'  *  la 
Naide,*  *Danza,'  *  la  Colombo,'  *Printemps  d' Amour,*  *  Pasquinade,' 
'Les  yeux  Creoles ;'  these  are  delicious  compositions  for  the  piano,  where 
effect  is  never  sought  for,  but  always  gained  from  inspiration,  where  the 
composer  has  spread  in  profusion  his  imagination  and  his  youthful  rap- 
ture. We  also  love  very  much  the  caprices  on  *  Jota  Arragonesa,'  *  Bergere 
et  Cavalier,'  *la  Gitanella,'  *Polonia,'  *  Char  me  du  foyer,'  *Fantdme  de 
bonheur,'  original,  radiant,  melodious  works,  with  distinguished  harmo- 
nies and  brilliant  characteristics. 

Again  let  us  add  to  this  rapid  nomenclature  Ua  Marche  de  Nuit,' 
*  I'Apoth^ose,'  *  Marche  Solennelle,'  *  la  Marche  desGibaros,'  'I'Union,'  a 
grand  march  *Cri  de  delivrance,'  a  heroic  caprice,  *le  grand  Scherzo,' — 
all  valuable  compositions,  which  assert  the  composer's  fertility  of  imagi- 
nation and  versatility  of  talent. 

We  see  that  nothing  is  wanting  in  the  work  of  Gottschalk — neither 
variety  in  the  subjects  treated  of,  nor  originality  of  style.  He  then 
merits,  as  composer  and  as  artist,  a  separate  place,  alongside  of  the  masters 
of  modern  art ;  his  individuality,  so  marked,  has  left  durable  souvenirs 
in  the  memory  of  his  contemporaries  ;  all  those  who  have  appreciated 
Gottschalk  have  retained  for  him  a  worship  of  grateful  tenderness  ;  and 
it  is  sweet  to  me,  who  was  one  of  his  old  friends,  to  consecrate  to  him  this 
last  souvenir  of  sympathetic  admiration. 


NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 


BY 
LOUIS  MOREAU  GOTTSCHALK 


(83) 


PREPAOB. 

BY  THE  BDITOR. 

The  Notes  and  Diary  of  L.  M.  Grottschalk  now  offered  to  the 
public  ought  to  have  appeared  several  years  ago ;  circumstances 
over  which  I  had  no  control  prevented  it.     It  is  hoped,  however 
that  this  delay  will  not  have  diminished  the  interest  felt  by  all  who 
have  known  and  admired  L.  M.  Gottschalk. 

After  four  years'  anxious  waiting,  by  dint  of  constant  applying 
to  the  Brazilian  Government,  and  through  the  kind  consideration 
of  the  Emperor,  the  trunk  containing  the  papers  of  the  celebrated 
pianist  was  at  last  sent  to  his  family  in  London.  When  opened  it 
was  found  to  contain  nothing  but  a  mass  of  soiled  and  torn  papers, 
in  such  a  dilapidated  condition  that  at  first  I,  who  undertook  the 
task,  confess*  to  having  felt  discouraged.  Still,  having  resolved  to 
do  it,  I  set  to  work,  and,  after  a  labour  of  patience  and  persever- 
ance lasting  two  years,  I  completed,  as  far  as  was  in  my  power, 
the  Notes  now  published. 

This  I  state,  and  feel  right  to  state,  in  order  that  if  any  fault  is 
found,  the  blame  may  rest  on  me,  not  on  my  brother.  Had  he 
lived,  and  been  able  to  accomplish  his  cherished  scheme  of  pub- 
lishing his  travels,  the  work,  no  doubt,  would  have  been  more  per- 
fect. I  have  done  the  best  in  my  power,  considering  the  difficulty 
of  the  task ;  and  must  now  leave  the  success  of  the  work  in  the 
hands  of  the  public,  and  to  those  who  have  appreciated  our  dear 
brother  as  a  man  and  as  an  artist. 

I  am  greatly  indebted  to  Messrs.  Houghton,  Osgood  &  Co.,  of 

Boston,  Mass.,  for  their  kind  permission  to  use  the  three  articles 

entitled  *  Notes  of  a  Pianist,*  which  appeared  in  the  *  Atlantic 

Monthly.' 

CLARA  GOTTSCHALK. 

London,  March,  1880. 

8  (85) 


NOTES  OF  THE  AUTHOR 

WHICH  MAY  SBRVE  AS  PREFACE. 

Written  without  order  and  without  connection,  with  hasty  pen 
upon  the  leaves  of  my  pocket-book,  these  Notes,  which  some  day  I 
purpose  to  publish,  were  at  first  destined  only  to  be  read  by  my- 
self. I  have  taken,  during  the  long  years  that  I  have  travelled,  the 
habit  of  fixing  daily  my  impressions  of  my  journey.  They  possess 
no  literary  merit,  but  they  speak  absolutely  the  truth :  is  that  a 
sufiicient  compensation  for  the  numerous  deficiencies  of  style  which 
the  critic  can  find  in  them  ?  The  recollections  of  my  travels  have 
often  supported  me  in  the  ennui  and  fatigue  of  my  wandering  life. 
In  writing  about  the  present  I  often  forgot  the  bitterness  of  the 
past,  and  when,  on  the  contrary,  the  present  became  wearisome,  I 
plunged  into  happy  memories  of  the  times  which  are  no  more,  and 

^  I  reawakened  its  charming  emotions.     These  poor  leaves  have 

received  my  joy,  my  griefs,  and  my  pains  for  the  long  time  that  I 

I  have  whirled  in  that  monotonous  and  agitated  circle  which  is  called 

the  life  of  concerts.  May  the  reader  lend  to  them  a  little  charm 
when  it  is  wanting,  and  when  he  shall  find  too  flagrant  proofs  of 
awkwardness  in  my  pen,  let  him  remember  that  I  was  but  a  musi- 
cian, and  only  a  pianist ! 


(87) 


NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 


CHAPTER  I. 

My  first  visit  to  Cuba  was  in  1853.  It  was  on  my  return 
from  Europe.  I  had  just  spent  eighteen  months  in  Spain, 
five  of  which  were  at  the  Court  of  Madrid.  I  spoke  Span- 
ish; the  Queen  had  conferred  upon  me  the  Cross  of  Isabella 
the  Catholic ;  and  the  Chiclanero,  after  having  heard  the 
performance  of  my  symphony  '  Le  Siege  de  Saragosse/  had 
presented  me  with  the  sword  of  Montes,  the  famous  '  bull- 
fighter.' I  was  therefore  in  the  best  condition  to  be  well 
received  in  the  'Pearl  of  the  Antilles/  without  relying 
upon  the  hundred  letters  of  recommendation  which  it  was 
not  necessary  for  me  to  present  in  order  to  receive  the  most 
generous  and  friendly  hospitality.  So  much  has  been 
written  upon  Havana  that  I  shall  not  essay  to  speak  of 
what  is  so  well  known;  that  Havana  is  situated  at  the 
bottom  of  a  bay  (may  not  this  be  the  origin  of  its  name, 
which  up  to  this  time  remains  doubtful,  notwithstanding 
the  researches  of  the  etymologists — ^Havre,  Haven,  Havana  ?), 
the  very  narrow  entrance  of  which  is  defended  by  the  famous 
'Morro'  on  the  left,  whose  cannons  gape,  in  a  frightfully 
suggestive  manner,  within  reach  of  your  hand ;  on  the  right 
by  the  no  less  formidable  Eort  Cabana,  built  in  the  rock, 
and  bristling  like  its  opposite  neighbour  with  a  triple  row 
of  open  jaws.  Hardly  have  you  passed  these  two  threaten- 
ing sentinels,  than  the  sight  reposes  on  red,  white,  yellow, 
pink,  and  green-coloured  houses,  with  square  and  flattened 
roofs  like  those  of  an  Arab's.  We  come  to  anchor.  The 
never-ending  torture  of  custom-house  oflicials,  doctor  of 
the  port,  captain  of  the  port,  clerks  of  the  port,  and  por- 
ters of  the  port  commences.    After  a  great  deal  of  noise 

8*  (89) 


90  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

and  little  work  (it  is  rather  the  manner  of  doing  things  by- 
all  Spanish  employes)  we  take  a  canoe  painted  blue  and 
rose-colour  and  disemoark.  They  then  pen  us  in  a  square 
hall,  in  sight  of  the  civil  guards,  and  establish  our  identity 
by  means  of  our  passports  given  previously  to  the  captain 
of  the  steamer.  The  passports  will  not  be  returned  to  us 
until  we  shall  quit  the  island ;  in  the  mean  time  they  give 
us  a  permit  to  land. 

During  the  voyage  from  New  Orleans  to  Havana,  I  had 
noticed  among  the  passengers  on  the  steamer  two  Italians, 
whose  modest  travelling-dress  had  exposed  them  to  the 
rudeness  of  some  rich  tradesmen,  a  species  of  individuals 
found  on  all  the  steamers  of  the  world,  and  who  are  always 
recognized  by  their  cravats  of  every  shade  and  colour,  their 
insolence,  and  bad  taste.  The  two  strangers,  who  appeared 
to  be  but  slightly  affected  by  their  ostracism,  stood  apart. 
Desirous  to  make  up  for  the  rudeness  of  my  fellow-country- 
men, I  sought  an  opportunity  to  introduce  myself  to  them. 
One  evening,  when,  according  to  their  custom,  they  were 
conversing  at  the  stem  of  the  boat,  I  heard  them  pronounce 
the  name  of  Count  Mamiani,  an  exiled  Catholic  poet  and 
philosopher,  whom  I  had  known  in  Paris.  I  seized  the 
occasion  and  introduced  myself.  At  the  end  of  half  an 
hour  we  were  the  best,  friends  in  the  world.  I  learned  that 
the  large  old  man  with  red  beard  was  the  Count  de  Cas- 
sato,  and  that  his  friend  was  the  Count  de  Malaperta,  both 
travelling  for  their  pleasure,  and  in  possession  of  a  fortune 
of  many  millions.  O  wealthy  shopkeepers,  if  you  but  knew 
it!  There  was  something  touching  in  their . friendship, 
which  had  been  contracted  under  very  singular  circum- 
stances. Both  of  these  old  bachelors,  philosophers,  and 
travellers,  fifty-six  years  old,  had  made  up  their  minds, 
the  one  in  Tuscany,  the  other  in  Turin,  to  visit  the  five 
parts  of  the  globe.  They  had  laid  their  plans  methodically 
by  fixing  the  probable  epoch  of  their  death  at  the  age  of 
sixty-five,  and  they  commenced  their  travels.  One  evening 
the  Count  de  Cassato  had  sought  refuge  for  the  night  in  an 
inn  in  the  north  of  Spain,  and  had  monopolized  for  his 
supper  the  scanty  provisions  which  from  time  immemorial 
are  found  (when  found  at  all)  in  the  larder  of  a  Spanish 
inn — ^that  is  to  say,  a  cup  of  chocolate,  some  hard  eggs,  and 


SINGULAR  MEETING.  01 

olives.  When  another  hungry  traveller  presented  himself, 
the  landlord,  pressed  by  9ie  reiterated  demands  of  the 
newcomer,  exposed  his  situation  to  the  first.  The  Count  de 
Cassato,  with  much  earnestness  and  good  humour,  offered 
the  half  of  his  supper  and  his  bed  to  the  newcomer,  who 
was  no  other  than  the  Count  de  Malaperta.  The  singu- 
larity of  this  meeting,  the  similarity  of  their  positions, 
tastes,  and  projects  bound  them  to  each  other,  and  they 
have  never  separated  since  that  day.  When  I  became  ac- 
quainted with  them  they  had  already  visited  Asia,  Africa, 
the  whole  of  Europe,  and  South  America,  and  they  were 
now  going  to  Havana  en  route  for  Mexico,  from  whence 
they  expected  to  leave  for  Australia,  and  the  epoch  which 
they  had  fixed  for  their  death  being  very  near,  D.  V.,  they 
would  return  from  thence  to  Turin.  They  each  wrote  daily 
their  impressions  of  their  travels.  The  Count  de  Malaperta, 
a  learned  philosopher,  whom  a  light  shade  of  misanthropy 
perhaps  rendered  less  agreeable  than  Count  de  Cassato,  was 
to  undertake  the  task  of  condensing  and  combining  the 
two  journals  at  the  end  of  the  voyage. 

Italians  and  enthusiasts,  two  hours  had  not  elapsed  after 
landing  before  they  had  found  a  music-shop  and  a  piano, 
and  my  first  evening  in  Havana  was  epent  in  playing  for 
these  two  charming  and  venerable  men  the  whole  repertory 
of  their  dear  Italian  music. 

This  manner  of  travelling  hardly  resembled  that  of  the 
two  Englishmen  that  I  met  some  years  since  at  Tobosa. 
They  had  their  courier,  who  spoke  Spanish  (of  which  they 
did  not  understand  a  word) ;  they  carried  their  tea  with 
them ;  wore  green  veils  on  their  gray  hats,  and  their  eternal 
field-glass  suspended  in  its  case  by  a  band  around  the 
shoulder.  They  read  every  number  of  '  The  Times'  which 
had  been  issued  since  they  left  home,  and  had  been  sent 
to  them  from  England.  I  found  them  eight  months  after- 
wards, at  Cadiz,  at  the  Hotel  d'Angleterre,  with  their  tea, 
green  veils,  gray  hats,  their  spy-glass,  and  their  courier.  The 
only  change  which  had  taken  place  in  them  was  that  they 
had  '  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin'  (then  all  in  vogue),  which  their 
ambassador  had  given  them  at  Madrid.  They  did  not 
understand  one  word  of  Spanish;  had  never  seen  the 
country,  only  the  Hotel  Anglais  of  Cadiz,  of  Seville,  and  of 


92  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

Madrid.  The  result  of  their  studies  miffht  have  been  re- 
duced to  this,  that  the  beefsteak  of  the  itotel  Peninsulaire 
of  Madrid  was  more  tender  than  that  of  the  Hotel  d'An- 
gleterre  of  Cadiz.  This  is  not  to  travel.  To  know  a  coun- 
try, that  is  to  say,  to  observe  its  customs,  and  the  manners 
of  its  inhabitants,  it  is  necessary  to  lay  aside  all  precon- 
ceived opinions,  to  forget  one's  own  habitudes,  and  above 
all  to  speak  the  language  of  the  people  whom  one  wishes  to 
study,  otherwise  is  to  travel  like  a  trunk  or  a  carpet-bag. 
But  I  strongly  suspect  that  the  English  in  general  are  an 
illustration  of  this  aphorism  of  Alphonseli^arr:  "That 
nobody  travels  for  the  purpose  of  travelling,  but  for  the 
purpose  of  having  travelled."  Is  it  not  much  more  com- 
modious in  such  cases  and  much  less  expensive  to  purchase 
a  traveller's  guide-book  and  study  it  ?  How  many  do  not 
act  otherwise !  I  knew  a  young  man  at  Saratoga  whom 
everybody  called  a  millionaire,  from  the  Southern  States, 
who  had  never  been  in  Europe,  but  he  had  effrontery,  and 
had  made  a  reputation  for  travelling  with  many  mamas 
and  young  marriageable  girls  by  recounting  to  them  his 
impressions  of  Italy.  Who  does  not  know  the  Coliseum, 
the  Bridge  of  Sighs,  the  Amo,  the  Place  St.  Mark,  the 
Dome  of  Milan,  the  Leaning  Tower  of  Pisa,  and  the  Bay 
of  Ifaples  ?  He  knew  his  guide-book  for  Italy  by  heart, 
and  his  descriptions  were  truthful  to  weariness.  I  have  a 
horror  for  beauties  consecrated  by  millions  of  classical  de- 
scriptions and  the  admiration  of  hundreds  of  centuries. 
What  I  like  in  travelling  is  the  unexpected,  the  personal 
observations  which  I  make ;  to  penetrate  into  the  minds  of 
the  people ;  to  know  them  not  as  they  feel  when  they  are 
aware  that  they  are  observed  (in  these  circumstances  men 
are  almost  all  alike),  but  in  their  deshabille^  and  to  probe 
their  consciences.  What  is  it  to  me  if  you  tell  me  that 
the  English  are  stiflF,  arrogant,  and  exclusive;  that  the 
French  are  good  soldiers  and  make  puns ;  that  the  Span- 
iards are  suspicious,  play  the  castanets,  and  are  smugglers ; 
that  the  Turks  have  a  tendency  to  obesity  and  polygamy ; 
that  the  Germans  are  beer  barrels  in  the  morning  and  barrels 
of  beer  in  the  evening ;  that  the  Italians  are  given  to  assassi- 
nation and  to  making  macaroni,  etc.  All  this  I  know,  or 
rather  it  has  been  told  to  us  too  often  for  me  not  to  know 


i 


GRAND  FESTIVAL.  93 

it.  Some  travellers,  through  imbecility  or  bad  faith  in 
speaking  of  the  plantations  in  Cuba,  deny  the  aHsertions  of 
the  enemies  of  slavery  by  assuring  us  that  the  slaves  on 
the  plantations  visited  by  them  have  a  happy  air,  and  that 
during  their  stay  they  had  not  heard  a  single  blow  of  the 
whip.  Happy  tourists !  Suppose  that,  instead  of  looking 
upon  these  joyous  faces  which  smile  in  the  i)re8ence  of  their 
master,  you  had  had  the  curiosity  to  take  oft*  the  clothes  of 
these  unfortunates  and  to  examine  their  shoulders,  you 
would  have  leanied  more  in  a  few  seconds  by  the  view  of 
certain  scars  badly  healed,  and  perhaps  wounds  still  bleed- 
ing, scarcely  healed,  than  all  your  observations,  founded 
upon  your  suppositions,  had  taught  you. 

On  my  arrival  at  Havana  I  forgot  the  distance  I  had  just 
travelled,  and  kept  on  my  linen  clothes.  The  winter  was 
truly  one  of  the  most  rigorous  that  had  ever  been  experi- 
enced in  Havana.  So  on  the  day  after  my  arrival  I  was 
taken  ill,  and  was  confined  to  my  bed  by  a  threatened  in- 
flammation of  the  lungs  for  three  weeks.  I  was  scarcely 
well  when  the  Captain-General,  Marshal  Serrano,  invited 
me  to  the  Palace,  and  two  days  afterwards  I  gave  a  very 
successful  concert ;  but  the  fatigue  I  experienced,  after  my 
long  illness,  caused  a  great  irritation  of  the  bowels,  which 
rendered  it  again  necessary  to  keep  my  room,  and  to  diet 
myself.  Two  months  after  (on  the  ofter  made  to  me  by  the 
General-in-chief  to  place  at  my  disposal  all  of  the  military 
bands) — ^I  had,  I  say,  the  idea  of  giving  a  grand  festival, 
and  I  made  an  arrangement  with  the  director  of  the  Italian 
company,  then  in  possession  of  the  great  theatre  of  Tacon. 
He  contracted  with  me  to  furnish  his  chief  performers,  all 
the  choruses,  and  all  his  orchestra,  on  condition  of  having 
an  interest  in  the  result.  I  set  to  work  and  composed,  on 
some  Spanish  verses,  written  for  me  by  a  Havanese  poet,  an 
opera  in  one  act,  entitled  '  Fete  Champetre  Cubaine.'  Then 
I  composed  a  Triumphal  Hymn  and  a  grand  march.  My 
orchestra  consisted  of  six  hundred  and  fifty  performers — 
eighty-seven  choristers,  fifteen  solo  singers,  fifty  drums 
and  eighty  trumpets — ^that  is  to  say,  nearly  nine  hundred 
persons  bellowing  and  blowing  to  see  who  could  scream 


94  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

the  loudest.    The  violins  alone  were  seventy  in  number, 
counter-basso  eleven,  violoncellos  eleven ! 

You  can  judge  of  the  effect.  No  one  can  have  any  idea 
of  the  labour  which  it  cost  me.  The  copying  alone  of  the 
orchestral  parts  amounted  to  five  thousand  francs.  There 
were  two  thousand  pages  of  the  act  of  the  opera ;  for  the 
'Fete  Cubaine'  more  than  four  thousand  pages,  and  nearly 
two  thousand  pages  for  the  Hymn.  I  was  obliged  to  write 
the  original  score  for  all.  Besides,  I  had  to  revise  page  by 
page  the  whole  eight  or  ten  thousand  pages.  I  had  in  the 
last  week  such  an  amount  of  labour  that  I  remained  seventy- 
two  hours  at  work,  sleeping  only  two  hours  in  every  twenty- 
four.  I  was  to  pay  a  very  heavy  forfeit  in  case  I  was  not 
ready  at  the  time  fixed  in  the  contract  made  with  the  im- 
pressario  of  the  theatre.  "  Ifotice  to  artists.  To  give  a  con- 
cert at  the  Tacon  is  equal  to  laying  a  plan  for  a  campaign, 
to  putting  an  opera  of  Meyerbeer  on  the  stage,  or  to  editing 
the  'Pfere  Goriot'  of  Balzac;  finally  it  is  an  immense  effort, 
requiring  a  great  deal  of  money,  of  time,  of  diplomacy, 
and  muscles  of  steel  in  the  service  of  an  iron  will." 

My  health  for  a  very  long  time  has  been  precarious,  and  it 
is  very  far  from  being  altogether  re-established.  Excessive 
labour  and  change  of  climate  have  greatly  tried  it.  I  must 
not,  according  to  the  advice  of  my  physician,  encounter  the 
cold  of  the  North,  which,  during  the  past  winter,  has  been 
excessive.  In  eight  days  I  probably  shall  be  at  New  Or- 
leans, and  I  shall  remain  there  only  one  or  two  weeks. 

The  heat  here  is  already  insupportable,  and  in  spite  of 
the  efforts  made  by  the  opera,  and  two  or  three  American 
circuses,  nearly  everybody  has  left  for  the  country. 

We  expect  from  day  to  day  the  company  of  ^ZarzueW 
(a  Spanish  opera),  that  Don  Carlos  Eaya,  the  present  im- 
pressario  of  the  Tacon,  has  gone  to  Spain  to  engage,  and 
which  is  to  alternate  during  the  whole  theatrical  season  with 
a  numerous  and  brilliant  Italian  troupe,  which  the  same 
impressario  promises  us  at  the  beginning  of  December. 
Until  now  I  do  not  know  anything  definite  about  the  per- 
sonnel of  this  latter  company.  So  many  different  artists 
are  spoken  of  that  it  is  impossible  to  foresee  who  will  be 
chosen.  Basseggio,  Lotti,  Medori,  Tedesco  have  all  suc- 
cessively been  announced.    The  last  number  of  the  *  Journal 


LA  GAZZANIGA.  95 

de  la  Marine,'  of  Havana,  asserts  that  the  whole  four  will 
come.  This  assertion  is  so  much  the  more  singular,  as,  be- 
sides these  four  prima  donnas  di  Cartelle,  Kennett,  con- 
tralto, is  already  engaged,  as  well  as  Fannv  Natale,  soprano 
sfogato,  and  Agnes  §atali,  contralto.  Total,  seven  donne 
de  prime  Cartelli.  The  tenors  are  Pancarri,  Volpini  (whose 
wife  is  engaged  as  second  prima  donna  for  the  operas  of 
'Mezzo  Carattero')!!  and  Testa,  a  charming  tenorine,  whose 
exquisite  method  makes  up  for  the  deficiency  of  a  sympa- 
thetic but  feeble  voice.  The  baritone  and  bass  are  equally 
good.  The  choruses  are  to  be  augmented  by  four  men  and 
four  women  engaged  in  Paris  by  Mr.  Raya.  The  orchestra 
will  also  be  engaged  there.  The  artists  engaged  for  the 
Spanish  opera  are — Prima  donna.  La  Latarre,  La  Nastariz, 
and  La  Santa  Maria ;  tenor,  Gonzales ;  baritones,  Fol- 
guerras  and  Puentes.  The  leaders  of  the  orchestra  for  the 
two  companies  are  six  in  number — a  number  which  ap- 
pearing exaggerated  is  nevertheless  hardly  sufficient  for  an 
audience  that  constantly  wishes  something  new,  and  deserts 
the  theatre  on  a  second  representation ;  *  La  Traviata'  is  the 
only  opera  that  has  triumphed  over  the  apathy  of  the  pub- 
lic of  Havana.  Max  Maretzek  gave  it  twelve  or  fifteen 
times  before  crowded  houses  last  winter,  and  nineteen  times 
the  preceding  season. 

It  is  a  fact  sufficiently  interesting  to  be  noticed  that  the 
ladies  literally  took  possession  of  the  theatre  every  time  the 
posters  announced  '  Traviata.'  On  the  part  of  the  ladies 
were  sobs,  transports,  ejaculations  at  each  of  the  different 
catastrophes  of  the  drama  of  Alexander  Dumas  jUs^  the 
sight  of  which  was  very  amusing,  and  more  than  once  ex* 
cited  the  unbecoming  laughter  oi  the  pit.  La  Gazzaniga, 
whose  gestures  and  acting  are  somewhat  violent  and  often 
exaggerated  and  adapted  to  a  southern  audience,  had  be- 
come two  years  ago  the  idol  of  the  feminine  public  of 
Havana.  The  enthusiasm  which  she  excited  boniered  on 
madness.  The  gentlemen  threw  their  hats  to  her,  the  ladies 
their  embroidered  handkerchiefs  and  their  bracelets.  Two 
factions  were  formed,  whose  disputes,  begun  in  the  theatre, 
were  kept  up  in  the  streets,  and  many  times  frequently 
threatened  to  become  a  riot.  One  of  these  factions  toot 
the  part  of  Frezzolini ;  it  was  the  enlightened  and  con- 


96  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

servative  party.  The  other  for  Gazzaniga  was  composed  of 
the  ladies  and  the  young  Havanese.  The  young  girls  were 
Gazzaniquistas  or  Frezzolinistas,  and  at  the  aristocratic 
balls  of  one  or  the  other  faction,  the  unfortunate  dancers 
who  belonged  to  the  opposite  party  were  mercilessly  sacri- 
ficed. The  dressmakers,  the  tailors,  the  confectioners,  the 
cafes  were  partisans.  The  sign  of  one  bore  'k  la  Traviata,' 
and  all  the  Gazzaniquistas  supplied  themselves  at  his  shop. 
Another,  '4  la  Somnambula,'  and  all  the  Frezzolinistas  ran 
there.  It  seems  incredible  that  human  passions  should  be 
excited  so  violently  by  such  ridiculous  puerilities.  It  is 
certain  that  speculation  took  advantage  of  the  general  effer- 
vescence, and  that  great  and  rapid  fortunes  were  made  in 
a  few  months.  At  her  benefit,  Gazzaniga  received  from  the 
public  a  lyre  and  a  cup  of  massive  gold  in  commemoration 
of  the  double  triumph  which  she  had  obtained  in  '  Saftb'  by 
Pacini  and  the  '  Brindisi'  of  Traviata.  The  receipts  were 
over  twenty-five  thousand  francs,  besides  the  jewels  which 
were  thrown  to  her  on  the  stage,  which  were  without  ex- 
aggeration valued  at  from  thirty  to  forty  thousand  francs. 

La  Cartesi,  soprano  sfogato,  had  fine  success  last  year  in 
^  Trovatore,'  and  particularly  in '  Traviata.'  The  exuberance 
of  her  gestures  and  certain  ultramontane  exaggerations  re- 
called Gazzaniga.  She  had  besides  the  immense  advantage 
of  appearing  beautiful  on  the  stage.  Nothing  more  was 
wanting  to  awaken  the  hatred  of  the  partisans.  The  Gaz- 
zaniquistas adopted  her.  La  Gassier,  her  happy  rival,  was 
sustained  by  the  people  of  taste,  and  the  strife  recom- 
menced. The  authorities  had  to  interfere,  and  the  encore 
of  pieces  was  prohibited.  The  benefits  of  both  prima  don- 
nas were  magnificent  and  fruitful  ovations.  Each  of  them 
received  crowns  of  massive  gold.  The  receipts  of  each 
representation  were  estimated  at  fifty  thousand  francs. 

I  have  been  to  Cardenas  to  give  a  concert,  the  subscrip- 
tion for  which  had  been  secured  to  me  in  advance  by  the 
Philharmonic  Society  of  this  charming  city,  which  is  not 
more  than  thirty  years  old  and  is  already  reckoned  among 
the  most  flourishing  of  the  Antilles.  Nearly  one-half  of 
the  sugar  of  the  Island  of  Cuba  (nearly  seven  hundred 
thousand  cases  of  sugar  and  one  hundred  thousand  hogs- 


CARDENAS.  97 

heads  of  molasses)  is  exported  every  year  from  Cardenas. 
Its  jurisdiction  contains  five  hundred  thousand  souls  and 
six  hundred  sugar  houses.  With  such  elements  it  must  be 
one  of  the  richest  of  the  island.  Her  business  is  almost 
exclusively  with  the  United  States.  Visited  principally 
by  the  Yankees,  whose  activitv,  enterprising  spirit,  and 
industry  agree  marvellously  with  the  necessities  and  char- 
acter of  its  inhabitants,  she  is  at  the  head  of  every  enter- 
prise and  of  all  the  progress  which  for  some  years  past 
have  transfonned  ancient  Cuba,  and  made  of  her  to-day 
one  of  the  richest,  most  civilized,  and  most  beautiful  coun- 
tries of  the  world.  Perhaps  the  preceding  statistics  may  be 
found  useless  and  tiresome,  but  it  seems  to  me,  now  that 
regenerated  Spain  has  revealed  to  Europe  all  her  resources, 
and  again  takes  the  rank  which  formerly  belonged  to  her 
ampng  the  great  nations,  that  it  will  not  be  without  interest 
to  many  persons  in  the  community  to  know  the  importance 
of  one  of  the  new  ports  of  its  principal  colony.  The 
theatre  at  Cardenas  is  only  a  provisional  one,  and  but  little 
worthy  of  notice.  They  are  constructing  a  new  one,  which  is 
only  about  one-third  up,  and  has  already  cost  one  hundred 
and  ninety-five  thousand  francs,  and  promises  to  be  like  the 
Tacon  Theatre  at  Havana.  The  church  is  of  the  Gothic  style, 
and  has  so  much  the  more  charm,  as  I  am  accustomed  to  the 
massive  and  heavy  architecture  which  the  talent  of  Herrera 
has  made  to  such  a  great  degree  the  fashion  for  the  last  two 
centuries.  It  is  elegant  and  boldly  supports  two  aerial 
clock-towers  which,  at  a  distance,  give  a  picturesque  eftect 
by  detaching  it  from  the  dark  verdure  of  the  cocoa  trees  and 
palms.  The  church  and  theatre  are  the  two  prime  neces- 
sities of  a  Spanish  American  city.  In  the  United  States, 
when  they  found  a  new  city,  they  commence  building  a 
hotel,  afterwards  a  church,  and  finally  the  newspaper  office. 
Given,  the  hotel,  church,  and  political  discussions,  you 
have  the  existence  of  the  Yankee.  Immediately  after  the 
newspaper  office  comes  the  *  Lecture'  or  *  Concert  Hall.' 
The  '  Lectures,'  of  which  French  people  can  have  but  an 
imperfect  idea,  are  essentially  an  American  invention,  and 
have  become  an  imperative  necessity  for  a  people  constantly 
occupied  with  popular  elections,  political  or  religious  dis- 
cussions, and  public  discourses  on  every  possible  subject, 
9 


98  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

The  profession  of  lecturer  is  one  of  the  most  lucrative  that 
I  know  of.  Everybody  speaks  with  facility,  and  with  a 
certain  eloquence  that  demands  no  special  study. 

My  concert  at  Cardenas  was  a  complete  success,  and  I  was 
enchanted  with  the  enthusiastic  reception  which  they  gave 
me. 

Decidedly  my  trip  to  Cardenas  has  taken  fabulous  pro- 
portions and  becomes  an  Odyssey.  Alexander  Dumas 
would  have  made  of  it  two  large  volumes  of  impressions. 
What  still  adds  to  its  interest  is  that  I  am  ignorant  as  to 
how  it  may  terminate.  I  am  writing  in  a  railway  carriage 
which  is  carrying  me  I  know  not  whither,  and  whose  jerks 
make  my  pencil  describe  curves,  angles,  and  spirals  charm- 
ing to  look  at ;  they  are  very  pretty,  and  atford  the  eye  the 
same  interest  as  the  clouds  in  whose  fantastic  forms  every 
one  can  see  what  he  likes.  The  page  which  I  have  just 
finished  almost  resembles  an  Egyptian  obelisk.  Perhaps 
I  may  be  told  that  jerks  are  not  indispensable  to  the  mak- 
ing of  hieroglyphics.  But  the  train  stops :  "  Where  are 
we?"  At  Marajas.  "Where  are  we  going?"  We  are  going 
back !  These  questions  and  answers  give  me  a  little  knowl- 
edge as  to  my  position,  of  which  I  have  been  ignorant  for 
the  three  days  that  I  have  taken,  or  nearly  so,  my  residence 
in  a  train  on  the  road  from  Cardenas  to  Havana,  for  it  is 
well  that  it  should  be  known  (I  should  have  commenced 
by  it)  that  for  three  days  I  have  been  trying  to  return  to 
Havana.  Invited  by  the  Philharmonic  Society  of  Cardenas, 
who  wished  to  hear  me,  I  accepted  with  all  the  -ardour 
which  the  desire  of  again  seeing  my  numerous  friends  and 
a  charming  town,  whose  remembrance  is  connected  with 
the  happiest  memories  of  my  first  voyage  to  Cuba,  could 
give  me. 

The  locomotive  scarcely  makes  two  leagues  an  hour,  and 
advances  with  the  worst  possible  will,  uttering  every  now 
and  then  lamentable  groans.  Our  conductor  insists  on  ex- 
plaining the  bad  conduct  of  the  locomotive  as  resulting 
from  the  want  of  coal  and  the  abundance  of  green  wood. 
I  myself,  enlightened  by  three  days  of  vicissitudes  and 
tribulations,  begin  to  comprehend  what  tears  my  ears  and 
penetrates  jny  heart.  This  groan  seems  to  say  to  me, "  Hast 
thou  then  no  pitj  on  my  sweat  and  my  fatigues  ?    How 


DIALOGUE  WITH  LOCOMOTIVE.  99 

fer  wilt  thou  thus  J:ravel  on  the  iron  road  ?  Dost  thou  forget 
that  I  have  panted  and  have  been  tormented  for  the  last 
three  days,  because  I  have  indulged  the  fallacious  hope  of 
going  to  Havana?"  "Alas,"  I  replied,  "poor  sister  in  mis- 
fortune, our  misery  is  equal.  I  also  am  the  victim  of  my 
sanguine  incredulity.  I  reasoned  that,  since  the  proverb 
says  that  every  road  leads  to  Rome,  there  was  the  stronger 
reason  for  thinking  that  the  railroad  from  Cardenas  to 
Havana  must  conduct  me  to  Havana. 

"  An  error,  an  illusion  of  my  excited  imagination.  If  not, 
what  signifies  the  business  I  have  been  engaged  in  for  the 
last  three  days  ?  Tossed  from  station  to  station,  from  inn 
to  inn,  and  finding  myself  further  oft'  than  ever  from  the 
end  of  our  journey !  Do  not  complain,  for  if  thy  conductor 
only  gives  thee  green  wood,  I  endure  the  horrors  of  hunger, 
which  has  only  been  partially  appeased  by  the  lean  breast  of 
a  venerable  fowl  which  has  been  served  up  to  us  on  the  road." 

After  this  dialogue  between  the  locomotive  and  myself, 
I  placed  myself  in  a  comfortable  position  for  a  nap,  from 
which  I  was  not  awakened  until  my  arrival  at  Havana, 
broken  down,  but  happy  for  having  escaped  the  dangers  of 
a  long  and  fetiguing  journey. 


CHAPTER  n. 


The  country  of  the  Antilles  imparts  a  voluptuous  languor 
which  is  contegious;  it  is  a  poison  which  slowly  infiltrates 
all  the  senses,  and  benumbs  the  soul  with  a  species  of 
ecstatic  torpor.  I  shall  never  forget  the  two  months  which 
I  passed  at  Caymito,  in  the  interior  of  Cuba.  I  had  just 
recovered  from  a  serious  illness;  some  newspapers,  indeed, 
had  mourned  for  me  m  very  fine  necrological  articles.  My 
two  physicians,  fearing  a  malignant  fever,  had  prescribed 
absolute  rest  for  me,  and  I  was  to  pass  my  convalescence  in 
the  jurisdiction  of  Guanajay,  near  the  Sierra  d'Anafe.  It 
was  a  vast  plain,  in  the  centre  of  which  rose  a  large,  square, 
modern  building,  having  only  a  ground-floor,  like  most  of 


100  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

the  Cuban  houses.  A  friend  of  mine,  whp  had  intended  to 
establish  a  su^ar  plantation  on  this  land,  placed  at  my  dis- 
posal la  casa  del  amo  (the  master's  house),  the  only  one  yet 
built.  Every  sugar  plantation  invariably  consists  of  the 
following  buildings,  which,  for  hygienic  reasons,  and  for 
convenience,  are  identical'.  Casa  del  amo,  which  occupies 
the  centre,  and  is  isolated  from  the  rest  of  the^wca;  casa 
del  mayoral,  the  commandant's  or  manager's  dwelling; 
casa  del  moleinda,  the  building  which  contains  the  steam- 
engine  for  bruising  the  canes;  it  communicates  with  the 
casa  del  calderas  (boilers).  Afterwards  comes  el  hospital 
(hospital),  el  corral,  in  which  the  domestic  animals  are  kept; 
and,  finally,  at  some  distance,  las  caouchos  de  la  negrada 
(negro  cabins).  Every  evening  the  mayoral  shuts  them  up 
under  lock  and  key,  after  having  called  the  roll,  and  made 
them  repeat  the  Pater  Noster  and  the  Ave  Maria.  Nothing 
of  all  this  yet  existed  at  my  friend's.  There  was  one  house 
only,  at  which  we  arrived  through  an  immense  avenue  of 
palms.  A  kind  of  wooden  ascent  of  twelve  steps  led  to  an 
exterior  gallery,  a  sort  of  Indian  veranda,  which  is  to  a 
Cuban  dwelling  what  a  porter's  lodge  is  with  the  French. 
From  the  gallery  you  look  out  upon  the  country ;  it  is  an 
observatory ;  visitors  can  be  seen  coming,  and,  in  the  dis- 
tance, the  negroes  watched  at  their  work.  There,  life  is 
passed  in  the  hammock  or  the  butaca,  in  smoking,  sleep- 
ing, in  drinking  coffee,  and,  above  all,  in  respiring  the  air 
of  the  savannah. 

To  serve  in  the  casa  del  amo,  or  to  belong  to  the  plantation, 
sums  up  the  whole  life  of  the  negro.  To  serve  el  amo  is 
the  marshal's  baton  of  the  model  slaves.  By  way  of  punish- 
ment, the  negroes  of  the  town,  who  have  committed  any 
peccadillos,  are  sent  by  their  master  to  the  fields,  which 
serve,  in  a  manner,  for  the  galleys.  The  beasts  of  burden 
of  the  finca  are  infinitely  better  treated,  and  their  existence 
less  compromised  than  that  of  the  poor  slaves,  obliged, 
during  the  grinding  season,  to  work  from  eighteen  to 
twenty  hours  every  day,  to  brave  the  heat  of  the  devouring 
sun,  or  endure  the  delugina:  rains  without  any  other 
clothes  than  calico  drawers.  The  mayorales,  or  overseers, 
treat  the  sick  negroes  in  their  own  way.  I  do  not  know 
that  they  understand  anything  at  all,  but  these  gentlemen 


SINGULAR  REMEDY.  101 

have  a  passion  for  systems;  then  the  consequences  of  these 
are  disastrous.  Leroi  (a  patent  medicine)  is  generally  the 
universal  panacea  most  commonly  emjjloyed.  I  knew  at 
Santiago  de  Cuba  a  Basque  (almost  all  the  overseers  of 
Cuba  are  Asturians  or  French  Basques^  who  could  hardly 
read,  and  treated  all  the  sick  with  cold  water.  A  laree 
cistern  in  the  middle  of  the  cafetal  was  the  only  remedy 
in  the  house.  I  was  present  during  a  visit  that  I  made 
there  at  the  cure  of  an  hysterical  young  negress,  whom 
they  threw  twice  a  day  into  the  basin.  She  struggled  hor- 
ribly in  the  water,  and  by  a  miracle  was  not  drowned,  not 
knowing  how  to  swim.  It  is  true  that  she  died  five  days 
aftei'wards. 

The  house  which  I  inhabited  was  at  an  hour's  distance 
from  the  first  cabins  of  Caymito.  Throughout  the  vast 
plains  and  the  fields  of  cane  not  a  vestige  of  a  habitation,  a 
true  desert  for  a  league  round;  the  mountains  of  Anafe 
in  the  horizon.  Mery  and  Theophile  Gauthier  would  have 
become  mad  in  contemplating  this  paradise,  in  which  an 
Eve  only  was  wanting.  Unfortunately,  the  only  company 
of  my  Eden  was  a  very  ugly  negress,  who,  every  evening, 
after  having  roasted  the  coffee,  bruised  her  corn  in  a  hollow 
piece  of  wood,  and  recited  the  Ave  Maria  before  an  old 
coloured  image  of  the  Virgin,  came  and  squatted  down  at 
my  feet  on  the  veranda,  and  there,  in  the  darkness,  sung  to 
me  with  a  piercing  and  wild  voice,  but  full  of  strange 
charm,  the  canciones  of  the  country.  I  would  light  my 
cigar,  extend  myself  in  a  butaca,  and  plunge,  surrounded 
by  this  silent  and  primitive  nature,  into  a  contemplative 
reverie,  which  those  in  the  midst  of  the  every-day  world 
can  never  understand.  The  moon  rose  over  the  Sierra  de 
Anafe.  The  crickets  chirped  in  the  fields ;  the  long  ave- 
nue of  palms,  which  extended  from  the  casa  to  the  en- 
trance of  the  plantation,  was  separated  into  two  black 
bands  on  the  uniform  ground  of  the  fields.  The  phospho- 
rescent arabesques  of  the  fire-flies  flashed  suddenly  through 
the  thick  darkness  that  surrounded  us.  The  distant  noises 
of  the  savannah,  borne  softly  by  the  breeze,  struck  on  my 
ear  in  drawn-out  murmurs.  The  cadenced  chant  of  some 
negroes  belated  in  the  fields  added  one  more  attraction  to 
all  this  i>oesy,  which  no  one  can  ever  imagine. 

9* 


102  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

My  thoughts  flew  away  with  the  fumes  of  my  cigar ;  my 
ideas  became  effaced,  and  I  finished  by  feeling  my  brain 
benumbed  by  that  delicious  beatitude  which  is  the  extreme 
limit  between  sleep  and  life.  I  should  have  remained  thus 
until  the  morning  had  it  not  been  for  the  voice  of  Sereno, 
who  came  to  tell  me  that  it  was  las  once — that  is  to  say,  the 
hour  for  retiring.  I  threw  once  more  a  last  look  on  all 
this  marvellous  nature,  and  withdrew  into  my  chamber. 

Sometimes  I  read  before  going  to  sleep.  Now  and  then 
a  bat,  dazzled,  struck  my  lamp  and  extinguished  it.  The 
number  of  these  little  animals  in  the  Cuban  country  houses 
is  immense.  The  apartments  having  no  ceilings  but  the 
roof  itself,  and  being  separated  from  each  other  only  by 
partitions  which  are  elevated  about  six  or  seven  feet,  the 
bats  establish  themselves  there  in  perfect  security.  Every 
hole,  every  chink,  every  obscure  comer  conceals  a  nest. 
The  enormous  beams,  particularly  those  that  cross  the 
structure  of  the  roof,  and  which  the  equivocal  taste  of  the 
natives  covers  with  indentations  by  a  cutting  punch, 
seem,  by  preference,  to  be  their  quarters.  As  soon  as  night 
comes  on,  the  noise  which  all  this  hairy  and  winged  colony 
makes  becomes  deafening.  I  liked  to  follow  with  my  eyes 
their  wild  flight,  whose  circles,  always  narrowing,  had  my 
lamp  for  their  centre.  I  liked,  also,  their  sharp  little  cry 
that  peopled  the  immense  depths  of  my  chamber.  ISTow 
and  then  I  read.  Unfortunately,  the  library  included  but 
four  books,  the  invariable  foundation  of  all  the  rustic  libra- 
ries in  Cuba,  to  wit,  El  Buen  Christiani  (The  Good  Chris- 
tian), El  Manuale  del  Hacendado  (The  Manual  of  Cultiva- 
tion), and  the  Medecine  de  Raspail,  translated  into  Spanish. 
I  forgot  L'Oficio  de  la  Santa  Misa  (Office  of  the  Holy  Mass). 
There  was  little  of  variety  and  of  relative  interest,  as  may 
easily  be  understood.  Thus  it  was  a  precious  discovery 
which  I  made  of  a  large  folio,  printed  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  with  tail-pieces,  blue  and  red  letters,  impossible 
engravings,  and  a  preface  by  the  Reverend  Father  Don  An- 
tonio de  Tos  Heros,  Canon  of  Toleda,  of  the  Holy  Inquisi- 
tion, of  the  Chamber  and  Private  Council  of  His  Majesty 
Charles  the  Third,  deputed  to  examine  the  work  by  the 
Archbishop,  and  in  which  he  declares  that  he  has  found 
nothing  contrary  to  the  commandments  of  our  Mother  the 


CAPTAIN  LOBO  AND  LESAGE.  103 

Holy  Church.  This  book  contained  the  poetical  works  of 
the  valiant  and  very  illustrious  (thus  ran  the  title  of  the 
work)  captain  of  infantry,  Senor  Don  Heraclio  Augusto 
Jos6  de  los  Angeles  de  Lobo  e  Ximenes.  This  brave  man 
of  war  informs  us,  in  an  epistle  to  the  reader,  that  "  Mars 
had  adopted  him  for  his  well-beloved  son ;  that  Apollo,  in 
gratitude  for  the  worship  which  he  had  vowed  to  the 
Muses,  treated  him  as  a  spoiled  child."  Well,  at  last  here 
is  a  sincere  preface.  One  feels  at  ease  with  good  Captain 
Lobo,  who,  m  spite  of  the  bullying  airs  which  he  takes  on, 
is  at  bottom  the  most  amiable  of  creatures.  His  casque 
has  all  the  appearance  of  Membrino^s  helmet.  His  sonnets, 
when  he  does  not  turn  them  against  the  enemies  of  the 
proud  Castilian,  are  the  bouquets  of  Chloris.  In  the  midst 
of  all  this  burlesque  rubbish  I  found  some  charming  things, 
some  pictures  of  manners  truly  striking,  and  some  very 
minute  details.  A  poem  on  the  taking  of  Gibraltar,  for 
example,  where,  swimming  in  the  midst  of  Homeric  de- 
nouncements, and  of  furious  imprecations  against  the  Eng- 
lish, I  discovered  some  very  interesting  historical  facts  of 
an  undoubted  character.  I  found  in  it  the  whole  gallery 
of  Gil  Bias'  characters.  Whether  Lesage  has  stolen  or 
borrowed  his  work,  he  is  certainly  the  only  one  that  has 
made  old  Spain  known  to  France.  Apropos  of  Lesage,  what 
most  irritates  the  national  susceptibility  of  the  Spaniards  ? 
Gibraltar,  it  may  be  replied ;  or  rather  the  witty,  but  slight- 
ly veritable  gasconades  of  Alexander  Dumas,  apropos  of 
Madrid.  [N'o !  What  has  rendered,  and  still  renders  the 
Spaniards  unhappy,  is  the  usurped  glory  of  the  author  of 
Gil  Bias.  I  recollect  a  work  which  I  read  in  Spain,  enti- 
tled "Gil  Bias,  stolen  and  translated  into  French  by  a  Mr. 
Lesage,  and  restored  here  to  Spanish  by  a  Spaniard,  jealous 
of  his  honour,  and  who  does  not  permit  any  one  to  ridicule 
his  nation."  Must  not  this  Spaniard  be  slightly  related  to 
the  illustrious  Chevalier  de  la  Mancha?  Whether  or  not 
this  be  the  case,  it  is  almost  certain  that  Lesage  only  com- 
piled different  works  already  published  at  Madrid,  which, 
however,  does  not  prevent  Gil  Bias  from  being  an  exact 
mirror  of  the  Spain  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  some- 
times, also,  of  the  nineteenth. 


104  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

I  embarked  at  Havana  on  June  3  for  St.  Thomas.  On 
the  6th  we  were  in  sight  of  the  coast  of  Hayti.  The  night 
began  to  fall.  All  the  passengers  went  below.  I  remained 
alone.  Leaning  against  the  ringing,  I  contemplated  the 
desolate  country  which  opened  out  before  me :  High 
mountains  whose  angular  peaks  seemed  as  if  they  wished 
to  pierce  the  clouds.  Solitary  palm-trees  hanging  sadly 
over  the  desert  shore.  A  horizon  whose  lines  were  lost  on 
a  stormy  sky.  Altogether,  and  more  especially  the  name 
of  St.  Domingo,  seemed  to  speak  to  my  imagination  by 
recalling  to  me  the  bloody  episodes  of  the  insurrection,  so 
closely  associated  with  my  childhood  memories.  When 
very  young,  I  was  never  tired  of  hearing  my  grandmother 
relate  the  terrible  strife  which  our  family,  like  all  the  rest 
of  the  colonists,  had  to  sustain  at  this  epoch ;  the  narra- 
tive of  the  massacre  at  the  Cape,  and  the  combat  fought  in 
the  '  mornes'  by  my  great-grandfather  against  the  negroes 
of  the  '  gouiaves.'  My  recollections,  drawn  towards  them 
by  a  mysterious  affinity,  rose  one  by  one  in  a  striking  and 
lucid  manner  from  the  long-forgotten  past.  I  again  found 
myself  before  the  large  fireplace  of  our  dwelling  on  the 
street '  des  Ramparts'  at  New  Orleans,  where  in  the  even- 
ing, squatting  on  the  matting,  the  negroes,  myself,  and  the 
children  of  the  house  formed  a  circle  around  my  grand- 
mother, and  listened,  by  the  trembling  fire  on  the  hearth, 
under  the  coals  of  which  Sally,  the  old  negress,  baked  her 
sweet  potatoes,  to  the  recital  of  this  terrible  negro  insur- 
rection. It  was  the  same  old  Sally  who,  while  listening 
all  the  time,  spoke  in  a  low  voice  to  a  portrait  of  Napoleon 
hung  above  the  fireplace,  and  which  she  obstinately  be- 
lieved was  bewitched  because  it  seemed  to  look  at  her,  in 
every  corner  of  the  room,  wherever  she  might  be.  We 
cast  fearful  glances  under  the  old  bed  with  its  baldachins, 
and  drew  closer  together  by  creeping  the  one  between  the 
other,  while  my  grandmother  continued.  I  was  without 
any  doubt  the  favourite  of  Sally,  to  judge  by  the  stories  with 
which  she  filled  my  head.  I  was  not  tired  of  listening  for 
the  hundredth  time  to  the  marvellous  adventures  of  Compe 
Bbuqui  (the  clown  of  the  negroes),  and.  the  knavery  of 
Compe  Lapin,  whose  type  represents  our  puiichinello  of 


RECITALS  OF  MY  GRANDMOTHER.  105 

Europe.  We  listened  to  Sally  so  well  that  we  knew  the 
whole  of  her  stories  by  heart — ^with  an  interest  that  con- 
tinues till  to-day,  and  still  makes  me  find  an  inexpressible 
charm  in  all  these  naive  legends  of  our  old  negroes.  I 
should  like  to  relate,  in  their  picturesque  language  and 
their  exquisite  originality,  some  of  those  Creole  ballads 
whose  simple  and  touching  melody  goes  right  to  the  heart 
and  makes  you  dream  of  unknown  worlds.  To  return  to 
the  recitals  of  my  grandmother.  One  of  my  favourite 
stories  was  that  of  John  bras  Coupe,  captain  of  the  run- 
away negroes  of  bayou  Sarah,  who  filled  the  whole  of 
Louisiana  with  the  report  of  his  sanguinary  exploits.  He 
resisted  alone,  this  hero  of  our  savannas,  all  the  expedi- 
tions sent  in  pursuit  of  him.  Strange  rumours  were  in 
circulation  on  this  subject.  Sometimes  it  was  a  detach- 
ment of  troops  that  had  ventured  to  the  haunt  of  this 
brigand,  who  disappeared  without  any  one  being  able  to 
discover  any  trace  of  him.  Sometimes  it  was  the  hunter, 
whose  ball  was  flattened  against  the  breast  of  bras  Coupe, 
whose  skin  was  rendered  invulnerable  by  certain  herbs  with 
which  he  rubbed  it.  The  negroes  asserted  that  his  look 
fascinated,  and  that  he  fed  on  human  flesh.  He  was  finally 
captured,  and  condemned  to  be  hung  in  the  '  square'  oppo- 
si|ie  the  Spanish  Cathedral.  He  had  been  attacked  by  a 
terrible  scurvy,  and  the  infecting  odours  exhaled  by  his 
corpse  two  hours  after  his  execution  made  them  bury  him, 
contrary  to  the  law  that  condemned  him  to  remain  sus- 
pended to  the  gallows  for  two  days.  Sometimes  Sally  in- 
terrupted the  narrative  of  my  grandmother  to  exorcise  a 
'  zombi,'  of  which,  she  said,  she  felt  the  impure  breath  on 
her  face.  We  narrowed  our  circle,  shivering  with  fright, 
around  my  grandmother,  who,  after  crossing  herself  and 
scolding  Sally,  took  up  her  story  where  she  had  left  oiF. 

I  will  not  repeat  the  long  series  of  misfortunes  and  of 
bloody  episodes  to  which  my  family  succumbed  at  the 
time  of  the  terrible  insurrection  of  St.  Domingo.  It  would 
be  too  long,  and  besides  is  only  the  history  of  those  of  all 
the  colonists  of  St.  Domingo  towards  the  close  of  the  last  cen- 
tury. My  great-grandfather,  the  Count  de  Brusle,  governed 
at  that  epoch  the  quarter  of  the  petite  riviere.    His  family  was 


106  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

naturally  one  of  the  first  against  whom  the  bands  of  Biasson 
were  infuriated.  My  great-uncles  were  all  massacred. 
Their  daught-ers  and  wives,  fiiUen  into  the  power  of  their 
former  slaves,  were  put  to  death  after  having  been  sub- 
jected to  the  most  horrible  outrages.  My  great-grand- 
father escaped  in  the  dress  of  an  old  mulattress  '  woudou' 
(witch),  his  nurse,  and  ran,  notwithstanding  his  seventy 
years,  to  place  himself  at  the  head  of  the  colonial  troops, 
where  he  was  heroically  killed.  My  grandmother  saved 
herself,  half  naked  and  dying  with  hunger,  wandering 
many  days  in  the  woods,  being  finally  found  by  the  cap- 
tain of  an  English  vessel  which  made  sail  for  Jamaica. 
Can  any  one  be  astonished  that  the  name  only  of  St. 
Domingo  awakens  in  me  sombre  memories,  and  that  I 
could  not  help  feeling  an  indescribable  sentiment  of  melan- 
choly when  for  the  first  time  beholding  this  fatal  land  with 
which  are  associated  so  many  grievous  recollections?  Our 
dwellings  burnt,  our  properties  devastated,  our  fortunes 
annihilated.  Such  were  the  first  effects  of  that  war  be- 
tween two  races  who  had  only  in  common  between  them 
that  implacable  hatred  which  each  nourished  for  the  other. 
Can  any  one,  however,  be  astonished  at  the  retaliation 
exercised  by  the  negroes  towards  their  old  masters?  What 
cause,  moreover,  more  legitimate  than  that  of  this  people 
in  their  agony  rising  in  one  grand  effort  to  reconquer  their 
unacknowledged  rights  and  their  rank  in  humanity  ?  In 
contemplating  at  this  distance  of  time  which  to-day  Sepa- 
rates us  from  the  events  of  this  memorable  epoch,  the  work 
of  regeneration  appears  to  us  purged  from  the  stains  im- 
printed on  it  by  human  passions.  It  disengages  itself  from 
the  shadows  which  obscured  it;  the  blood  has  disappeared; 
the  stains  are  wiped  out ;  and  from  the  bosom  of  this  world 
which  crumbles  away  rises,  sombre  and  imposing,  the  grand 
form  of  Toussaint  I'Ouverture,  the  enthusiastic  liberator  of 
a  race  that  nineteen  centuries  of  Christianity  had  not  yet 
been  able  to  enfranchise  from  the  yoke  of  its  miseries.  The 
greater  part  of  the  colonists  emigrated  to  ^ew  Orleans 
(my  grandmother,  then  very  young,  was  of  this  number) ; 
a  great  number  also  to  Santiago  de  Cuba,  which  is  the 
cause  that,  now,  even  in  many  parts  of  the  island  of  Cuba, 
French  Creole  is  spoken  in  preference  to  Spanish. 


FREDERICK  BARBAROUSSA.  107 

8t.  Thomas,  July,  1857. 

I  have  been  here  for  fifteen  days,  and  ouffht  notwithstand- 
ing to  ffo  immediately  to  Venezuela,  where  I  have  been 
expected  for  six  months,  but  as  soon  as  the  news  of  my 
arrival  reached  the  Governor-General  he  wrote  me  inviting 
me  to  dine  with  him.    I  was  recommended  to  him  by  the 

Ex-President,  G  eneral  Ech of  the  Republic  of  Pern.    At 

the  dessert  his  Excellency  proposed  a  toast  in  my  honour,  and 
expressed  the  desire  that  I  might  be  heard  at  least  once 
before  leaving  the  island.  A  subscription  list  was  opened 
at  the  table^  and  next  day  a  deputation  of  amateurs  of  the 
city  came  to  offer  me  fifteen  hundred  dollars  for.  three  con- 
certs. The  last  took  place  day  before  yesterday, '  la  Marche 
de  Nuit,'  'Valse  po6tique,'  and  the  *  Banjo,'  were  encored. 
The  event  of  the  evenmg  was  a  gigantic  bouquet  of  roses 
and  of  cape  jessamin,  that  two  negroes,  bending  under  the 
burden,  came  to  present  to  me  upon  the  stage  m  the  name 

of  the  Chevalier  de  L ,  a  Genoese  gentleman,  a  dilettante 

singer,  and  besides  possessing  also  very  uncommon  musical 
erudition.  The  bouquet  was  not  less  than  four  feet  in  cir- 
cumference. 

The  Chevalier  de  L has  lived  in  this  island  for  many 

years,  and  has  built  a  mansion  at  the  foot  of  the  tow^er  of 
Frederick  Barbaroussa,  on  the  summit  of  a  hill  which  over- 
looks the  harbour,  and  which  was  the  haunt  of  the  buccaneers 
and  filibusters.  Frederick  Barbaroussa,  their  chief  at  Saint 
Thomas,  made  of  it  a  veritable  fortress,  as  its  position  ren- 
dered it  impregnable.  I  found  still  there  the  cannons  in  the 
embrasures,  and  some  piles  of  balls;  nothing  is  more  melan- 
choly or  speaks  more  to  the  imagination  than  these  ruins, 
and  some  old  arquebuses  on  the  wall,  and  I  acknowledge 
that  I  could  not  help  feeling  a  certain  uneasiness  on  descend- 
ing the  subterranean  vaults,  dug  out  of  the  living  rock  in 
which  they  shut  up  their  prisoners  of  war.  Several  in- 
struments of  torture,  and  many  skeletons  of  men  and 
women  in  chains  found  at  a  small  distance  below  the  soil, 
which  the  porter  of  the  villa  showed  us,  recalled  to  the 
imagination  the  most  sombre  pictures  of  the  bloody  dramas 
which  according  to  tradition  have  here  taken  place.  I 
listened  shivering  at  the  recital  which  an  old  negro  officer 
told  me.      He  spoke  in  a  low  voice  as  if  he  feared  that 


108  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

Federico  el  Verdugo  might  still  hear  him.  He  knew  the 
tradition  through  his  father,  who  had  it  from  another  old 
negro  whose  father  had  known  Barbaroussa.  Every  time  he 
pronounced  the  name  of  Frederick  Barbaroussa  he  lowered 
his  voice  and  gave  me  a  mysterious  look  by  which  without 
doubt  he  wished  to  make  me  understand  that  the  spirit  of 
'  Verdugo'  still  inhabited  the  tower. 

The  island  of  Saint  Thomas  is  hardly  twenty-five  miles 
in  circumference.  The  Danish  government,  understanding 
at  a  glance  the  advantage  it  miffht  draw  from  the  geo- 
graphical position  of  this  little  island,  have  made  of  it  a 
tree  port,  .owing  to  which  it  has  to-day  acquired  a  com- 
mercial importance  which  none  of  the  large  islands  of  the 
Antilles  can  now  dispute  with  her, — Saint  Thomas  is  to-day 
the  exchange  of  the  two  continents — ^the  market  in  which 
are  bartered  the  products  of  the  two  worlds.  St.  Domingo 
sends  her  mahogany;  Havana,  tobacco;  Cuba  and  Porto 
Rico,  sugar;  Jamaica,  rum;  Santiago,  cocoa;  Antrocuia, 
emeralds  and  gold ;  Venezuela,  hides.  All  these  are  stored 
in  vast  warehouses,  true  chaoses,  where  are  found  all  the 
products  of  Europe,  from  the  muslins  of  Manchester  and 
the  silks  of  Lyons,  to  the  bottles  of  Doctor  Girandeau  of 
Saint  Gervais.  It  is'a  species  of  fair  to  which  twice  a  year 
all  the  peddlers  of  the  two  continents  of  Spanish  America 
resort. .  The  commerce  in  specialties  is  doubtless  unknown, 
for  everybody  sells  everything  here.  The  perfumer  keeps 
plow-shares,  and  sells  English  needles. 

Europe  in  return  furniSies  her  the  products  more  or  less 
reliable  of  her  commerce:  Nantes,  the  wines  of  Spain,  and 
the  hams  of  Westphalia;  Hamburg,  Erard's  pianos;  Cadiz, 
the  oils  of  Aix ;  Birmingham,  hardware ;  Paris,  china  crapes ; 
Sheffield,  Toledo  blades,  etc.  etc.  St.  Thomas  is  a  naval 
station  of  the  greatest  importance.  Her  port,  surrounded 
by  high  mountains,  affords  a  safe  asylum  to  vessels  of  all 
kinds  during  the  hurricanes  so  terrible  in  the  Antilles.  It 
is  also  the  point  of  junction  of  all  the  English  and  American 
steamers,  a  network  of  which  extends  irom  Southampton 
and  New  York  to  the  Isthmus  of  Panama,  and  co\'ers  the 
whole  of  the  coasts  of  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  as  far  as 
Cape  Horn. 

Unfortunately,  the  yellow  fever  rages  cruelly  at  St. 


SAINT  THCfMAS.  109 

Thomas.  According  to  the  official  statistics  it  carries  off 
more  than  one-thim  of  the  sailors  who  remain  in  port 
during  the  months  of  July  and  August. 

On  my  arrival  the  epidemic  was  raging  in  all  its  violence. 
The  authorities  had  taken  the  severest  measures  to  prevent 
the  boats  from  landing.  The  steamer  was  forced  to  anchor 
one  mile  out  at  sea.  The  marine  hospital  had  been  trans- 
ported to  the  other  side  of  the  bay,  and  surrounded  by  a 
sanitary  cordon  to  prevent  all  communication  between  the 
town  and  the  port.  •  In  spite  of  all  these  precautions,  two 
days  after  our  arrival,  our  steamer  had  already  lost  seven  of 
our  men  belonging  to  the  boat,  and  three  servants  on  board 
attacked  with  the  same  plague  succumbed  in  a  few  hours. 
Another  steamer  leaving  St.  Thomas  for  Southampton  at 
the  same  period  lost  during  the  voyage  twenty-eight  sailors 
and  fourteen  passengers. 

My  intention  on  arriving  was  to  take  immediately  the 
schooner  Isabel,  which  started  for  Venezuela  twice  a  month. 
I  remembered  that  Herz  was  not  willing  to  venture  a  con- 
cert at  St.  Thomas,  and  I  knew  too  well  the  great  experi- 
ence which  my  illustrious  predecessor  had  acquired  in  the 
art  of  giving  concerts,  not  to  follow  his  example  and  'burn* 
St.  Thomas.  The  consignee's  office  of  the  Isabel  was  open, 
and  I  hastened  there  and  took  my  passage.  "  The  schooner 
will  leave  in  two  days,"  the  captain  said  to  me.  How  spend 
two  days  unless  by  visiting  the  environs  on  horseback? 
It  is  what  I  undertook  to  do.  There  is  nothing  so  pictu- 
resque as  St.  Thomas.  Figure  to  yourself  one  of  those 
boxes  of  toys  in  painted  wood  from  Nuremberg,  with  their 
polished  white  little  houses  with  red  roofs,  and  their  trees 
of  symmetrical  foliage.  Place  the  houses  the  one  behind 
the  other  on  three  little  hills,  throw  here  and  there  clusters 
of  palms  and  cocoanut  trees,  add  a  background  of  moun- 
tains like  sugar-loaves,  a  foreground  of  neat,  pretty  dwel- 
lings coquettishly  stuck  here  and  there,  a  sky  like  that  of 
Switzerland,  a  pretty  little  whitewashed  fort-,  pierced  for  six 

funs,  enabling  the  fluted  breeches  of  six  pretty  little  green 
ronze  cannon  to  pass  out,  not  forgetting  the  big  German 
sentinel,  sleeping  or  smoking  his  pipe,  m  his  sentry-box, 
and  you  will  understand  the  charm  which  detained  me  be- 
fore this  agreeable  and  peaceful  scene.    I  staid  there  until 
10 


110  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

the  beginning  of  evening.^    The  night  came  on,  I  retraced 
the  road  to  town,  and  I  did  not  leave  in  two  days. 

Everything  at  St.  Thomas  wears  an  air  of  gentility  and 
good  nature  that  soothes  the  eyesight  and  the  mind ;  espe- 
cially in  leaving  Cuba  where  everything  seems  in  a  state  of 
decay.  The  negroes  are  free  at  8t.  Thomas.  The  mulat- 
tresses  seemed  to  me  remarkably  pretty — they  have  pre- 
served the  tignon  (a  sort  of  turban)  of  bright  colors. 

The  fetes  at  the  Port  de  France,  on  the  inauguration  of 
the  statue  of  the  Empress  Josephine,  have  been  very  bril- 
liant. For  three  days  the  town  has  been  literally  overrun 
by  innumerable  strangers  who  have  been  attracted  from  all 
the  neighbouring  islands  to  witness  the  brilliant  solemnity. 
The  hotels  were  not  large  enough ;  some  slept  &  la  belle 
itoile  (that  is  in  the  open  air).  I  have  supped  with  five 
English  officers,  who  had  hired  for  the  night,  from  a  re- 
tailer of  liquors,  the  place  beneath  his  counter.  It  was 
doubtless  impossible  -for  anybody  to  sleep — ^thanks  to  a 
crowd  of  invading  colonists  with  whom  it  Was  necessary  to 
dispute  inch  by  inch  the  ground. 

I  had,  tired  of  the  war  from  the  first  niffht,  abandoned 
the  field  of  battle  to  them,  and  ffone  to  walk,  by  the  light 
of  the  moon,  on  the  'place'  of  the  town — an  immense 
square  bordered  with  gigantic  tamarind  trees,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  which  was  erected  the  statue  of  Josephine.  This 
statue  is  cut  out  of  one  block  of  beautiful  white  marble. 
The  attitude  is  simple  and  noble.  The  Empress,  standing 
erect,  holds  in  one  hand  the  medallion  of  the  Emperor,  ana 
with  the  other  seems  to  indicate  a  point  of  the  horizon 
through  which  her  eyes  seek  to  pierce.  That  point  is  the 
*  Three  Islets,'  the  birth-place  of  the  illustrious  Creole. 

The  vessels  of  the  government,  the  Fulton,  Lucifer,  and 
Ardent,  sent  to  all  the  little  Antilles  to  bring  their  gov- 
ernors, who  had  been  uivited,  have  returned  with  the  depu- 
tations of  the  consul-general  and  governor  of  Guadaloupe, 
the  consuls-general  of  Dominica,  of  Barbadoes,  Grenada, 
Santa  Cruz,  etc.  etc.  A  chamberlain  of  the  king  of  Den- 
mark represented  all  the  Danish  Antilles.  The  first  day 
was  consecrated  by  a  banquet  to  two  hundred  persons,  given 
by  the  island  to  her  guests.  The  next  daj^  there  was  a 
government  ball.     Fifteen  hundred  invitations  had  been 


GRAND  CONCERT.  HI 

given,  that  is  to  say,  for  four  hours  people  crushed  each 
other  with  a  desperation  the  more  inexplicable  as  the  tem- 
perature had  become  insupportably  hot.  At  supper  the  en- 
thusiam  reached  its  highest  point,  particularly  after  a  very 
happy  speech  in  French,  made  by  the  English  governor  of 
Sainte  Lucie.  The  scholars  of  the  seminary  were  in  the 
upper  gallery,  and  at  a  signal  from  the  govenior  of  Martin- 
ique they  sang  the  national  air '  God  Save  the  Queen,'  which 
the  French  officers  had  the  politeness  to  make  them  repeat 
in  the  midst  of  prolonged  applause.  Apropos  of  the  scholars 
of  the  seminary  I  ought  in  passing  to  tielicitate  them  on 
the  manner  in  which  they  executed  the  'Miserere'  of 
Trovatore,  arranged  for  military  music,  with  solo  for  the 
saxophone,  by  their  able  Professor  Don  Jose  Ruiz,  a  dis- 
tinguished ffuitarist,  who,  after  travelling  and  giving  con- 
certs through  all  America,  has  come  to  establish  himself  at 
Saint  Pierre.  The  programme  announced  for  the  last  day 
a  grand  concert  to  be  given  by  Gottschalk.  The  consul- 
general  had  called  on  me  to  contribute  by  my  talent  to  the 
success  of  the  fete,  which  so  far  had  been  so  brilliant. 

I  had  accepted  a  subsidy  of  twelve  hundred  dollars, 
which  had  been  voted  to  me  by  the  colony  for  the  expenses 
of  a  concert,  and  had  asked  the  services  of  Madam  Budan, 
a  distinguished  singer,  an  old  pupil  of  the  Conservatoire, 
who  is  better  known  in  the  profession,  especially  at  Bor- 
deaux, where  she  obtained  about  twelve  years  since  great 
success,  under  the  name  of  Madam  Koska.  All  the  gov- 
ernors with  their  staffs  were  present  at  the  concert.  In 
the  middle  of  my  piece  '  the  Siege  of  Saragossa,'  under  a 
full  fire  of  chromatic  grape-shot  and  deadly  octaves,  I 
thought  of  looking  into  the  hall,  where  I  saw  the  fine 
large  head  of  an  English  major,  red  and  snoring  (the  major, 
not  the  head)  like  a  German  humming-top.  You  may 
imagine  the  blow  given  to  my  amour  propre.  At  the 
moment  that  the  first  cannon  gave  the  signal  for  the  assault 
of  Saragossa,  I  boldly  commenced  '  God  Save  the  Queen,' 
which  1  combined  admirably  with  '  Partant  pour  la  Syrie ;' 
my  big  major  started  out  of  his  sleep  at  the  noise  of  the 
plaudits.  The  bellicose  hearer,  enchanted  with  the  entente 
cordiale  of  these  two  themes,  in  spite  of  their  opposing 
rhythms,  recognized  his  national  air,  and,  delighted  at 


/ 


112  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

hearing  it,  applauded  wildly,  and  so  warmly  that  I  forgave 
him,  and  I  even  believe  that  since  we  are  quite  friends. 
Madam  Budan  sang  the  air  of  '  Charles  VI.'  and  the  '  Po- 
lacca'  de  Jerusalem  in  a  remarkable  manner,  which  brought 
down  upon  her  warm  and  prolonged  applause. 

* 

Ponce. 

I  have  passed  four  weeks  on  the  plantation  of  Mr.  K. 
I  there  found  that  cordial  and  assiduous  hospitality  which 
has  become  proverbial  when  we  speak  of  Plazuela.  But 
what  cannot  be  imagined  is  the  grace,  the  distinction,  and 
the  cordiality  with  which  Mr.  and  Madam  K.  do  the 
honours  of  their  comfortable  'mansion.'  What  charming 
souvenirs  these  four  weeks,  so  rapidly  elapsed,  have  left 
me! — the  happiness  this  peaceful  country  life  gives  me! 
Solitude,  for  me,  is  repose — is  the  absence  of  the  thousand 
distractions  of  this  unquiet  and  giddy  existence  to  which 
my  career  of  nomad  artist  condemns  me.  In  solitude  I  find 
in  reveries  and  contemplation  fertile  sources  of  inspiration. 
Then  I  turn  my  thoughts  inwardly;  all  my  faculties  are 
strengthened,  and  retake  their  originality,  which  the  inces- 
sant contact  of  society,  and  the  constrained  friction  of  men, 
had  occasioned  them  to  lose.  Only  then  am  I  myself.  I 
collect  my  scattered  thoughts  in  the  silence;  in  the  face  of 
the  majestic  and  imposing  serenity  of  a  beautiful  sunset  I 
listen  to  the  interior  voices  that  tell  me  marvellous  things, 
which  art  seeks  to  translate  into  its  language,  but  of  which 
its  most  beautiful  chefs-d^oeuvre  are  but,  alas,  only  the  pale 
and  distant  reflections.  For  myself,  who,  from  a  sickly 
and  nervous  nature,  have  always  had  a  propensity  to  melan- 
choly, the  stirring  and  noisy  existence  which  the  career  of 
nomad  virtuoso  imposes  on  me,  is  that  to  which  I  have  the 
greatest  antipathy ;  thus,  above  all,  I  have  enjoyed  at  Pla- 
zuela what  I  have  been  deprived  of  for  so  many  years,  the 
first  of  all  joys,  "  not  having  to  give  a  concert" — ^that  is  to 
say,  not  being  obliged,  at  a  fixed  hour,  to  bestow  a  certain 
quantity  of  inspiration  for  the  price  of  a  few  dollars,  but 
to  find  one's  self  in  the  home-life  of  the  family;  that  is  to 
say,  to  have  the  heart  warmed  by  the  contact  of  good  and 
amiable  people,  and  to  forget  the  thousand  and  one  jealous- 
ies and  miseries  to  which  the  talented  artist  is  exposed. 


PONCE.  lis 

At  Plazuela  I  a^ain  met  a  distinffuished  and  clever  man, 
old  Doctor  B.,  whom  I  had  already  encountered  in  my 
travels,  and  whom  I  loved  at  first  sight  for  his  juvenile  en- 
thusiasm for  poetry,  and  his  enlightened  taste  for  the  arts. 
Frequently  some  visitors  came  from  Manaty,  Arecibo,  or 
from  some  of  the  neighbouring  plantations.  The  Doctor 
then  recited  to  us  some  fragments  of  Racine.  I  played  or 
improvised  according  to  the  caprice  of  my  imagination ; 
Adeline  and  Madam  K.  sang  a  duo. 

I  have  found  at  Ponce  the  most  flattering  and  most  hos- 
pitable reception.  Four  concerts  given  at  the  theatre  before 
a  brilliant  auditory,  whose  enthusiastic  demonstrations  tes- 
tified their  great  taste  for  music,  have  more  than  justified, 
in  my  eyes,  the  reputation  that  Ponce  enjoys.  The  ladies 
are  charming,  and  dress  with  the  most  refined  taste.  If  I 
was  still  at  that  happy  period  of  seventeen  to  twenty  years 
of  age,  when  the  brilliant  illusions  of  our  youth  carry  us 
with  rapid  flight  on  their  variegated  wings,  when  one 
glance  only  of  the  loved  one,  one  grasp  only  of  the  hand, 
would  have  filled  me  with  ecstasies,  I  do  not  doubt  but 
that  I  should  have  fallen  desperately  in  love  with  many  of 
the  charming  creatures  who  graced  the  rano;es  of  boxes  in 
the  theatre  at  each  one  of  my  concerts.  But,  alas!  it  is 
a  long  time — ^thanks  to  cares  and  to  business  that  time 
has  thrown  in  my  path — since  my  heart  has  become  dead- 
ened, and  feels  no  more  these  tender  emotions;  so  I  am 
content  with  admiring,  without  desiring  more. 

St.  Pierre. 

The  last  political  events  at  Barcelona  (La  Cote  ferme) 
are  of  a  nature  to  cure  radically  all  artists  who  have  the 
insane  idea  of  making  a  tour  there.  There  have  arrived 
here  within  these  last  few  days  a  family  of  Italian  singers, 
named  Busati,  escaped  by  miracle  from  the  horrors  of 
famine,  thanks  to  the  intrepidity  of  a  captain  whose  small 
decked  vessel  was  able  in  the  night  to  slip  between  the 
armed  vessels  which  now  close  the  mouth  of  the  Barcelona 
River — the  only  and  last  entrance  through  which  the  un- 
fortunate besieged  hope  to  receive  succour.  The  details 
which  we  have  gathered  are  nauseating ;  they  are  dying 
of  hunger  in  the  town ;  and  infants  and  women  are  being 

10* 


114  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

killed  in  the  streets  by  way  of  pastime  by  drunken  soldiers. 
The  American  consul,  barricaded  in  his  house,  supported 
himself  and  his  family  for  a  month  on  boiled  dry  peas, 
without  bread  or  salt.  The  French  consul,  being  so  im- 
prudent as  to  open  his  window,  received  a  ball  in  his 
shoulder.  Ten  or  twelve  pretenders  tearing  to  pieces,  in 
the  midst  of  every  excess  of  a  bloody  anarchy,  the  frag- 
ments of  that  unhappy  country.  What  a  fate  awaits  all 
the  foreigTi  artists  who  insist  on  going  to  try  their  luck  in 
the  Spanish  republics!  The  Busati  family  have  found 
here  a  reception  worthy  of  the  sentiments  of  confraternity, 
which,  although  we  say  it,  exists  in  the  hearts  of  all  artists. 
The  Creoles  are,  of  all  people^  the  most  hospitable  and  the 
most  prompt  to  feel.  The  first  concert  of  the  Busdti  took 
place  at  the  theatre.  Madame  Busati,  a  soprano  sfogato 
passed  to  the  state  of  soprano  sfiatato^  sang  nevertheless  in 
good  style  the  cavatina  of  'Attila'  and  of  'Semiramide.' 
it  is  too  much  to  demand  more  of  a  singer  who  has  been 
the  best  Adalgisa  to  Pasta  in  the  best  time  of  that  incom- 
parable Norma.  Mademoiselle  Bufeati  sang  with  all  the 
inexperience  of  her  sixteen  or  seventeen  years  the  cavatina 
of  Betly  and  the  Alia  pollaca  of  'Lombardi'  by  Verdi. 
She  lacks  warmth  and  method ;  I  was  almost  about  to  say 
— voice.  What,  then,  remains  to  her?  There  remain 
very  fine  black  eyes  filled  with  fire,  which  are  not  a  slight 
compensation  for  all  which  she  still  lacks  as  an  artiste. 
Mr.  Busati,  a  baritone,  an  old  caricato  of  the  Italian  Opera 
at  Astor  Place  and  Impressario  at  Caracas,  has  caused 
amusement  in  the  Duo  of  El  Turco  in  'Attila.' 

An  opera  troupe  is  very  much  w^anted — the  island  de- 
mands it  with  might  and  main.  The  theatre  of  St.  Pierre 
is  very  handsome.  The  subsidy  granted  by  the  town  is 
fifteen  hundred  francs  per  month.  It  would  then  be  possi- 
ble for  a  director  who  understands  his  business,  with  some 
passable  singers,  to  make  not  a  bad  speculation  by  coming 
to  Martinique  and  to  Guadaloupe. 

I  am  urgently  requested  to  procure  a  professor  of  the 
piano;  a  conscientious  musician  who  knows,  on  pressing 
occasions,  how  to  tune  pianos.  They  will  assure  to  him 
for  two  years  twenty-five  hundred  francs  per  annum,  and, 
according  to  all  probabilities,  he  should  be  able  to  make 


A  PIANIST  WANTED.  115 

from  his  lessons  eight  to  ten  thousand  francs.  As  a  matter 
of  course,  this  figure  could  not  be  attained  without  very 
great  regularity  and  an  assiduous  activity.  The  expenses 
m  this  country  in  leading  a  regular  life  could  not  go  be- 
yond three  thousand  to  thirty-five  hundred  francs*  per 
annum.  If  with  this  information  some  Parisian  journal 
could  disembarrass  me  from  the  importunities  of  a  crowd  of 
music-mad  fathers,  and  save  from  the  miseries  of  the  pro- 
fessorship at  Paris  one  of  those  innumerable  estimable 
artists  whom  the  crushing  prestige  of  great  stars  condemns 
to  obscurity  in  a  ffreat  theatre,  out  who  takes  again  his 
rank  in  a  more  humble  sphere,  it  would  confer  a  great  favour 
on  them.  The  professorship  at  St.  Pierre  is  represented  by 
Mr.  Maurice  Z ,  the  able  leader  of  the  orchestra,  for- 
merly at  Amiens  and  at  Strasburg;  Sikler,  a  violinist, 
that  the  bills  of  his  first  concerts,  on  his  arrival  at  Marti- 
nique, presented  to  us  as  first  violin  of  the  King  of  [N'aples ; 
Pamain,  a  distinguished  violoncellist,  formerly  second 
prize  of  the  Conservatoire,  now  professor  of  the  piano  and 
organist. 

You  who  know  the  ban  et  arriere-ban  of  the  pianists, 
come  to  my  aid.  Save  me  from  these  respectable  fathers 
adorned  with  charming  daughters  who  drum,  in  spite  of 
common  sense,  the  key-board  from  morning  to  night,  and 
make  me  curse  the  day  when  I  brought  into  the  world  the 
'  Bananier,'  the  '  Banjo,'  and  all  the  other  exotic  products 
which  my  concerts  have  brought  in  vogue  in  America. 
Every  one  makes  me  feel  how  much  it  was  to  be  regretted 
that  so  many  brilliant  talents  should  be  lost  for  want  of  a 
good  director.  Seridusly,  I  have  found  amons^  many  young 
Creole  girls  an  organization  such  as  more  than  one  good 
artiste  might  wish  for. 

I  left  Martinique  with  great  regret.  I  have  there  also 
devoted  and  too  warm  friendships,  not  to  cost  me  a  great 
deal  in  leaving  this  good  little  island,  so  charming  in  its 
poverty,  and  whose  hospitality  had  almost  given  me  back 
all  the  joys  which  I  had  not  experienced  since  I  left  my 
family. 

A  few  days  since  1  was  present  at  a  soiree  given  by  Mr. 

L ,  one  of    the  most    opulent  Creoles.       There  was 

music ;  and  I  played  upon  a  marvellously  fine  piano  manu- 


116  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

factured  by  my  illustrious  confrere,  Henri  Herz;  this 
piano,  which  cost  fifteen  thousand  francs,  is  a  piece  of 
furniture — ^a  veritable  ehef-d^oeuvre  of  Parisian  industry ; 
it  is  all  of  ebony,  with  mouldings  of  gilt  bronze,  chiselled 
like  a  bijou  of  Froment  Meurice.  But  its  exterior,  beautiful 
as  it  was,  struck  me  less  than  its  qualities .  of  sound,  its 
crystalline  limpidity,  and  the  equality  of  its  roundness  like 
the  voice  in  all  its  registers.  I  compliment  the  illustrious 
pianist  and  manufacturer  on  his  work. 

My  health  is  good.  I  have  for  some  months  invariably 
commenced  all  my  letters  with  the  same  phrase  for  the 
purpose  of  falsifying  the  absurd  stories  which  have  circu- 
lated, and  still  circulate,  on  my  account  since  my  illness  at 
Santiago — stories  which  the  newspapers  of  the  United 
States  and  of  Cuba  hasten  to  publish  with  a  great  many 
commentaries.  I  wish  to  speak  of  my  death.  This  sad 
event  took  place  at  Santiago  three  months  ago.  I  was 
carried  oft'  in  three  days  by  a  frightful  attack  of  black 
vomit ;  it  is  the  newspaper  of '  Savana  la  grande'  who  tells 
it ;  but  the  '  Revue  de  Villa  Clara,'  without  doubt  better 
informed,  makes  me  succumb  to  an  aneurism  of  the  heart, 
which  I  much  prefer,  the  aneurism  being  much  more 
poetical  than  the  vomit.  I  have  written  to  these  gentle- 
men, assuring  them  that  I  am  still  alive,  and  requesting 
them  to  publish  my  letter  when  it  reaches  them.  The 
newspaper  'Savana  la  grande'  has  already  been  at  the 
expense  of  a  lithograph  of  the  ^'•deceased  and  ever  to  be 
regretted  GottschalkJ'  which  it  furnishes  gratis  to  its  sub- 
scribers. By  what  means,  in  such  a  case,  can  they  make 
me  return  to  life  ?  As  to  the  '  Revue  de  Villa  Clara,'  it 
had  already  announced  to  its  numerous  subscribers  a  superb 
coloured  engraving,  and  a  romance  composed  by  an  amateur 
of  the  town— the  whole  entitled  '  Funeral  homage  to  the 
bard  of  the  tropics.'  I  understood  what  I  owed  to  those 
who  so  much  regretted  me,  and  consented  to  remain  dead 
for  some  days.  I  will  not  say  anything  about  the  music 
of  the  funeral  romance  of  the  amateur  of  Villa  Clara,  but 
the  coloured  engraving  merits,  from  its  originality  of 
design  and  of  colour,  a  very  particular  notice.  The  subject 
of  it  is  allegorical.     The  genius  of  music  sheds  tears  over  a 


ENGRA  VING-^ON  M  Y  DEA  TH,  117 

broken  lyre  and  casts  a  black  veil  over  a  bust^  which  the 
'  Revue  de  Villa  Clara'  says  is  mine.  The  genius  of  music 
is  muffled  in  a  troubadour's  robe  and  a  pale  rose  tunic,  with 
a  most  amusing  eftect,  which  recalls  that  of  the  Christ  of 
the  Cathedral  of  Burgos,  which  Christ,  the  sacristan  as- 
sured me,  when  I  visited  the  church  in  1852,  was  human 
fleshy  and  had  been  found  swimming  in  the  river.  They  took 
it  and  carried  it  in  triumph  to  the  convent  of  the  Francis- 
cans ;  but  it  escaped  from  thence^  and  came  to  place  itself  in 
the  little  chapel  of  the  Cathedral,  to  the  right  on  entering, 
where  you  can  still  see  it,  by  the  help  of  the  trifling  sum 
of  two  reals  which  the  sacristan  demands  to  show  you  the 
miraculous  effigy  of  the  Saviour,  and  to  tell  you  its  very 
truthful  history.  I  return  to  the  engraving  of  the  'Revue.' 
The  genius  of  music  has  his  mouth  open,  and  seems  pre- 
pared to  swallow  a  long  serpent,  which,  after  more  mature 
examination,  I  recognized  to  be  a  black  ribbon  on  which 
are  these  words,  which  the  genius  of  music  let  fall  in  the 
depths  of  his  affliction :  "  Cruel  Apolo  lo  mirabas  con 
envidia  y  nos  lo  has  arrebatado .'"  I  mean  to  preserve  the 
romance  and  the  engraving.  Some  newspapers  of  the 
United  States  have  persisted,  in  spite  of  a  letter  addressed 
by  me  to  the  'United  States  Courier,'  in  believing  me  still 
very  ill.  Notwithstanding  what  they  say,  I  was  never  in 
better  health. 

I  have  succeeded  at  Port-au-Prince  and  at  the  islands  of 
St.  Thomas  and  Porto  Rico.  I  explored  these  two  latter 
on  horseback,  and  have  gone  over  them  in  every  sense.  I 
have  made  some  notes  on  what  has  appeared  to  me  inter- 
esting. 


CHAPTER  m. 


New  York,  February,  1862. 

Herb  I  am  again,*  after  an  absence  of  six  years,  once 
more  in  New  York!  Six  years  foolishly  spent,  thrown  to 
the  wind,  as  if  life  were  infinite,  and  youth  eternal;  six 
years,  during  which  I  have  roamed  at  random  under  the 


118  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

blue  skies  of  the  tropics,  indolently  permitting  myself  to 
be  carried  away  by  chance,  giving  a  concert  wherever  I 
found  a  piano,  sleeping  wherever  the  night  overtook  me — 
on  the  grass  of  the  sav^anna,  or  under  the  palm-leaf  roof  of 
a  ^veguero^  with  whom  I  partook  of  the  'tortilla'  of 
maize,  coffee,  and  banana,  and  which  I  paid  for  on  leaving 
in  the  morning,  with  "Dios  se  lo  pague"  ("Grod  repay  you"); 
to  which  he  responded  by  a  "  Vaya  usted  con  Dios"  ("  Grod 
go  with  you") — these  two  formularies  constituting,  in  this 
savage  country,  the  operation  so  ingeniously  perfected 
among  civilized  peoples,  which  is  called  "  settling  the  hotel 
bill/' 

When  I  became  tired  of  the  same  horizon,  I  crossed  an 
arm  of  the  sea,  and  landed  on  a  neighbouring  island,  or  on 
the  Spanish  Main.  In  this  manner  I  have  successively 
visited  the  Spanish,  English,  French,  Dutch,  Swedish,  and 
Danish  Antilles,  the  Guyanes,  and  the  shores  of  Para. 
Sometimes  the  idol  of  an  ignorant  'pueblo,'  to  whom  I 
have  played  some  of  their  simple  ballads,  I  have  stopped  for 
five,  SIX,  or  eight  months  among  them,  putting  oft'  my  de- 
parture from  day  to  day,  and  have  at  last  seriously  resolved 
to  go  no  further;  or,  detained  in  a  hamlet  where  the  piano 
was  still  unknown,  by  the  ties  of  an  affection  with  which 
my  fingers  had  nothing  to  do  (0  rare  and  blest  affections !),  I 
forgot  the  world,  and  lived  only  for  two  large  black  eyes, 
which  veiled  themselves  with  tears  whenever  I  spoke  of 
beginning  again  my  vagabond  course,  again  living  as  the 
bird  sings,  as  the  flower  expands,  as  the  brook  flows,  for- 
getful ol  the  past,  careless  of  the  future.  I  sowed  my  heart 
and  my  purse  with  the  ardour  of  a  sower  who  hopes  to  har- 
vest an  hundred  ears  for  every  seed ;  but  the  flelds  in  which 
spent  doubloons  are  harvested,  and  the  loves  of  spring- 
time again  blossom,  were  not  yet  ready  for  the  husband- 
man, and  my  heart  and  purse,  exhausted  by  this  double 
prodigality,  one  flne  day  were  discovered  to  be  dry.  Then, 
seized  with  a  profound  disgust  of  the  world  and  of  myself, 
tired,  discouraged,  suspecting  men  (and  women),  I  hastened 
to  conceal  myself  in  a  desert  on  the  extinguished  volcano  of 

N ,  where  I  lived  for  many  months  like  a  cenobite, 

with  no  other  companion  than  a  poor  fool  that  I  had  met 
in  a  small  island,  who  attached  himself  to  me,  followed  me 


A  MONSTROUS  TOOTH.  119 

everywhere,  and  loved  me  with  that  absurd  and  touching 
constancy  which  one  only  meets  with  in  dogs  and  xnsA- 
men.  My  friend,  whose  folly  was  quiet  and  inoffensive, 
believed  himself  to  be  the  greatest  genius  in  the  world.  He 
suffered,  he  said,  from  a  gigantic  and  monstrous  tooth  (and 
it  was  by  this  only  that  I  recognized  that  he  was  insane, 
the  other  symptoms  being  found  among  too  many  individ- 
uals to  be  considered  as  an  abnormal  trait  of  the  human 
mind) — a  monstrous  tooth  which  periodically  increased, 
and  threatened  to  encroach  upon  the  whole  jaw.  Tor- 
mented with  the  desire  to  regenerate  humanity,  he  divided 
his  time  between  the  study  of  dentistry,  which  he  learned 
for  the  purpose  of  constantly  combating  the  fantastic  pro- 

fress  of  his  molar,  and  a  voluminous  correspondence  which 
e  carried  on  with  the  Pope,  his  brother^  and  the  Emperor 
of  the  French,  his  cousin,  in  which  he  pleaded  the  interests 
of  humanity,  and  called  himself  the  Prince  of  Thought,  and 
raised  me  to  the  dignity  of  his  illustrious  friend  and  bene- 
factor. In  the  midst  of  this  intellectual  ruin  one  thing 
only  survived — ^his  love  for  music.  He  played  upon  the 
violin,  and ,  a  sinffular  thing,  although  insane,  he  under- 
stood nothing  of  the  music  ot  the  future! 

Perched  upon  the  ed^e  of  the  crater,  on  the  very  top  of 
the  mountam,  my  cabin  overlooked  the  whole  country. 
The  rock  on  which  it  was  built  hung  over  a  precipice 
whose  depths  were  concealed  by  cacti,  convolvuli,  and 
bamboos.  The  one  who  had  preceded  me  had  surrounded 
this  lower  ground  with  a  parapet,  and  had  made  of  it  a  ter- 
race, which  was  level  with  the  bedroom.  He  had  requested 
to  be  buried  there,  and  from  my  bed  at  night  I  could  see 
by  the  moonlight  the  white  tombstone  at  a  few  steps  from 
my  window.  Every  evening  I  moved  my  piano  upon 
the  terrace,  and  there,  in  view  of  the  most  beautiful 
scenery  in  the  world,  which  was  bathed  by  the  serene  and 
limpid  atmosphere  of  the  tropics,  I  played, /ar  rayself  alone^ 
everything  that  the  scene  which  opened  before  me  inspired — 
and  what  a  scene!  Figure  to  yourself  a  gigantic  amphi- 
theatre, such  as  an  army  of  Titans  might  have  carved  out 
in  the  mountains ;  to  the  right  and  left  virgin  forests  filled 
with  wild  and  distant  harmonies,  which  are  like  the  voice 
of  silence  ;  before  me  twenty  leagues  of  country  whose  magic 


120  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

perspective  is  rendered  more  marvellous  by  the  transparency 
of  the  atmosphere;  over  my  head  the  azure  of  the  sky; 
below  the  declivities,  surmounted  by  the  mountain,  de- 
scending gradually  towards  the  plain ;  further  on  the  green 
savannas;  then  lower  a  gray  point — it  is  the  town;  and 
further  on  again  the  immensity  of  the  ocean,  whose  line  of 
deep  blue  forms  the  horizon. 

Behind  me  was  a  rock  on  which  broke  a  torrent  of 
melted  snow,  that  turned  from  its  course,  leaped  with  a 
desperate  bound,  and  engulphed  itself  in  the  depths  of  the 
precipice  which  gaped  under  my  window. 

It  was  there  that  I  composed  'Reponds  moi,'  'LaMarche 
des  Gibarros,'  'Polonia,'  'Columbia,'  'Pastorella  e  Caval- 
liere,'  '  Jeunesse,'  and  other  unpublished  works.  I  let  my 
fingers  run  over  the  key-board,  wrapped  up  in  the  contem- 
plation of  these  marvels,  whilst  my  poor  friend,  to  whom  I 
did  not  listen,  divulged  to  me,  with  childish  loquacity, 
the  high  destiny  to  which  he  proposed  to  elevate  humanity. 
Do  you  comprehend  the  contrast  between  these  ruins  of 
intelligence,  that,  like  a  clock  out  of  order,  strikes  all  its 
ideas  at  random,  and  the  majestic  serenity  of  that  nature 
which  surrounded  me?  I  felt  it  instinctively,  and  my 
misanthropy  softened,  became  indulgent  towards  others  and 
myself;  I  was  cured  of  my  wounds,  my  despair  vanished, 
and  soon  the  sun  of  the  tropics,  which  gilds  all  things, 
dreams  as  well  as  fruit,  gave  me  back  my  vagabond  life, 
strong  and  confident. 

I  again  began  to  live  according  to  the  customs  of  these 
primitive  countries,  which,  if  they  are  not  strictly  virtuous, 
are,  in  retaliation,  terribly  attractive.  I  saw  again  those 
beautiful  'Triguenas,'  with  red  lips,  and  brown  bosoms, 
ignorant  of  evu,  sinning  with  frankness,  without  fearing  the 
bitterness  of  remorse.  All  this  is  frightfully  immoral,  I 
know  it;  but  life  in  the  savannas  of  the  tropics,  in  the 
midst  of  a  half-civilized  and  voluptuous  race,  cannot  be 
that  of  a  London  cockney,  a  Parisian  idler,  or  an  American 
Presbyterian. 

In  the  depths  of  my  conscience  I  heard  sometimes  a 
voice  which  recalled  me  to  what  I  was,  to  what  I  ought 
to  be,  and  imperiously  commanded  me  to  return  to  a 
healthy  and  active  life.    But  I  had  permitted  myself  to 


PREFER  POETIC  BARBARISM.  121 

become  by  the  languor — the  ^far  niente^ — morally  be- 
numbed, 80  far  that  the  idea  of  again  appearing  before  a 
polished  audience  seemed  to  me,  very  honestly,  absurd. 
For  what  good  ?  I  said  to  myself.  And  besides  it  is  too 
late :  and  I  continued  to  live,  to  sleep,  to  awaken,  to  run 
over  the  savannas  on  horseback,  to  listen  to  the  female 
parrots  coquet  in  the  guava-trees  at  sunrise,  to  the  crickets 
chirp  in  the  fields  of  sugar-cane  at  night-fall,  to  smoke  my 
cigar,  to  drink  my  cotfee,  to  cradle  myself  in  my  ham- 
mock— finally,  to  enjoy  all  the  pleasures  beyond  which  the 
'Guogiro'  sees  only  death,  or,  what  is  still  worse,  the 
feverish  agitation  of  northern  society.  Here  is  the  secret  of 
the  atrophy  of  the  new  Spanish  colonies.  Go  then  and 
talk  of  stocks,  of  credit  foncier^  of  exchange,  to  that 
sybarite,  king  of  the  savanna;  who  can  live  the  whole 
year  on  exquisite  bananas,  on  savory  cocoa  which  he  has 
not  had  the  trouble  to  plant ;  who  smokes  the  best  tobacco  in 
the  world ;  who  replaces  the  horse  of  yesterday  by  a  better 
chosen  in  the  first  '  Caballada'  that  he  meets  with ;  who, 
clothed  with  his  linen  drawers,  sees  the  seasons  succeed 
each  other  with  a  perpetual  summer;  and  who  in  the 
evening,   under  the   palm-trees,  finds    beautiful,  dreamy 

firls  impatient  to  bestow  their  love  on  him — who  shall 
now  how  to  murmur  in  his  ears  these  three  words, 
eternally  beautiful,  "  Yo  te  quiero"  (I  love  thee). 

The  moralists,  I  well  know,  condemn  all  this ;  and  they 
are  right.  But  poetry  is  often  in  antagonism  with  virtue ; 
and  now  that  I  am  shivering  under  the  icy  wind  and  gray 
sky  of  the  !N"orth,  that  I  hear  discussions  on  Erie,  Prairie 
du  Chien,  Harlem,  and  Cumberland,  that  I  read  in  the 
newspapers  the  lists  of  dead  and  wounded,  the  devastation 
of  incendiaries,  the  abductions  and  assassinations  which 
are  committed  on  both  sides  under  the  name  of  retaliation, 
I  find  myself  excusing  the  demi-savages  of  the  savannas 
who  prefer  their  poetic  barbarism  to  our  barbarous  pro- 
gress. 

Recalled  suddenly  to  real  life  by  a  great  grief,  I  wished 
to  break  all  the  ties  that  bound  me  to  these  six  years  that 
are  lost. 

It  was  at  this  period  that  Strakosch  wrote  to  me,  offer- 
ing me  an  engagement  for  a  round  of  concerts  in  the  United 


122  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

States.  I  hesitated  an  instant,  cast  a  last  glance  at  the 
past,  gave  a  sigh,  and  signed.  The  dream  was  finished — 
I  was  saved ;  but  who  shall  say  if  in  this  salvage  youth 
and  poesy  had  not  been  wrecked  ?  Poesy  and  youth  are 
by  nature  vagabonds  ;  they  are  butterflies.  Shut  them  up 
in  the  cage  of  reason  and  their  transparent  wings  are 
broken  against  the  bars  of  their  prison.  Regulate  their 
flight  and  vou  take  from  them  their  scope  and  boldness — 
two  qualities  which  are  often  found  in  inexperience,  and 
whose  loss  is  not  always  compensated  by  maturity  of  talent. 

New  York,  February  15,  1862. 

My  first  concert  at  New  York,  after  six  years  of  absence, 
took  place  on  the  eleventh.  I  played  badly.  1  felt  too 
much  emotion  for  my  fingers  and  my  mind  not  to  be 
affected  by  it.  I  recognized  among  the  audience  all  the 
well-disposed  physiognomies  of  unknown  friends,  who, 
during  my  long  series  of  concerts  at  Dodsworth's  Hall  in 
1855,  had  constantly  encouraged  and  sustained  me  and 
contributed  the  first  to  the  success  of  '  Marche  de  Nuit' 
and  '  Last  Hope'  which  I  had  just  then  composed.  Richard 
Hoffman,  one  of  the  rare  brotherhood  of  the  piano,  who 
has  always  given  me  proofs  of  good-fellowship,  had  lent 
me  his  co-operatiou  to  play  my  '  Guillaume  Tell'  and  my 
'Ojos  Creolos.'  Of  all  the  pianists  who  have  visited  the 
United  States,  there  is  not  one  whose  talent  merits  more 
esteem  than  that  of  Richard  Hoffman.  A  conscientious 
artist,  a  perfect  musician,  a  distinguished  and  modest 
man,  he  has  arrived  legitimately  and  without  effort  at  the 
high  position  which  he  occupies.  His  taste  and  the 
moderation  of  his  judgment  have  preserved  him  from 
coteries.  He  is  neither  the  chief  nor  the  instrument  of 
any  clique.  He  admires  and  understands  the  great  dead 
(I  mean  the  classics) ;  but  he  does  not  conclude  from  this 
that  he  must  kill  the  living  who  possess  talent.  He  does 
not  believe  that  in  admiring  Schumann,  he  is  compelled 
to  believe  that  Rossini  is  a  fool.  He  comprehends  Bach, 
but  does  not  shrug  his  shoulders  on  hearing  the  name  of 
Bellini.     In  conclusion,  he  is  an  artist  and  a  gentleman. 

My  impressarios,  Strakosch  and  Grau,  having  discovered 
that  my  first  concert  in  New  York  on  my  return  from 


MY  REAPPEARANCE.  1 23 

Europe  in  1853  took  place  on  the  11th  of  February ^  decided 
to  postpone  my  reappearance  for  some  days  so  that  it  might 
take  place  on  the  11th  of  February^  1862 — ^a  memorable 
coincidence  of  which  the  public  (whom  it  did  not  interest 
the  least  in  the  world)  was  informed  through  all  the  news- 
papers. A  question  by  many  of  my  friends:  "WAy  do 
you  say  such  things  in  your  advertisements  f  Why  do  you 
not  strike  out  such  ambitious  epithets  in  your  placards  f^ 
Alas!  Are  you  ignorant  that  the  artist  is  merchandise 
which  the  impressario  has  purchased,  the  value  of  which 
he  enhances  as  he  chooses  ?  You  might  as  well  reproach 
certain  pseudo-gold  mine  companies  tor  announcing  divi- 
dends which  they  will  never  pay,  as  to  render  an  artist 
responsible  for  the  lures  of  his  contractor.  A  poor  old 
negress  becomes,  in  the  hands  of  the  Jupiter  of  museums 
(Barnum),  the  nurse  of  Washington.  Why,  then,  do  you 
think  you  should  be  astonished  at  the  magnificent  titles 
which  are  coupled  with  mv  name  ? 

The  artist,  once  thus  sold,  belongs  no  longer  to  himself, 
but  becomes  the  property  of  the  impressario,  who  en- 
deavours as  he  sees  fit  to  heighten  his  value.  His  friends 
help  him,  and  shout  that  he  is  of  good  qualitv ;  his  enemies 
that  he  is  trumpery,  and  worth  nothing.  The  impressario 
being  vulnerable  only  through  the  pocket,  that  is,  through 
the  artists  whom  he  cries  up,  it  is  upon  the  latter  that  the 
blows  fall ;  like  coachmen  who,  every  time  tliey  meet  the 
horses  of  their  rivals  whom  they  hate,  strike  them  with 
their  whips,  so  it  is  upon  us  that  the  critics,  who  have 
quarrelled  with  the  impressario,  revenge  themselves. 

Thus  far  the  press  of  the  United  States  have  treated  me 
with  great  kindness,  with  the  exception  of  two  newspaper 
writers,  one  of  whom  is  an  old  minister,  who  does  not 
understand  music,  and  the  other  an  obscure  writer,  who 
uses  his  pen  in  the  service  of  his  personal  antipathies.  If 
they  had  used  the  one-hundredth  part  of  the  efforts  w^hich 
they  have  employed  to  prove  that  I  am  a  fool,  in  acquiring, 
the  one  a  knowledge  of  the  art  of  which  he  pretends  to  be 
a  luminary,  and  the  other  in  correcting  one  or  two  pieces 
for  the  piano  which  he  has  published,  they  might  have 
succeeded  in  arriving  at  an  honest  mediocrity,  instead  of 
remaining  malicious  nobodies. 


124  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

I  again  met  in  ITew  York  with  the  same  kindness ;  time 
had  not  changed  the  old  sympathies.  Unfortunately,  the 
systematic  ill-will  of  some  of  mjr  old  detractors  remained 
the  same.  Mr.  H,  continues  to  distil  from  his  sourish  little 
pen  the  personal  spite  which  he  pours'  out  every  week 
through  his  little  musical  drain,  which,  fortunately,  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  musical  world. 

The  'Murmures  Eoliens,'  which  I  have  just  published, 
appear  likely  to  have  some  success.  They  are  encored  at 
all  my  concerts.  'Pastorella  e  Cavalliere'  and  the  'Ojos 
Criollos'  are  always  called  for  again.  Apropos  of  'Mur- 
mures  Eoliens,'  I  am  led  by  the  diain  of  my  recollections 
to  measure  the  emptiness  of  human  things.  When,  in 
1853,  I  returned  to  the  United  States,  which  I  had  left 
eleven  years  before  (at  eleven  years  of  age),  my  reputation, 
wholly  Parisian,  had  not,  thus  to  speak,  crossed  the  Atlan- 
tic. Two  or  three  hundred  concerts,  given  in  Belgium,  in 
Italy,  in  France,  Spain,  Switzerland,  etc.,  had  given  me  a 
name ;  but  this  name,  so  young,  was  not  yet  acclimated  in 
America.  My  first  concert  at  New  York  was  a  success, 
but  the  receipts  did  not  amount  to  one-half  of  the  expenses. 
The  second,  given  at  Niblo's  theatre,  was  a  fiasco ;  in  the 
two  concerts  I  lost  twenty-four  hundred  dollars.  The  ex- 
cellent Wallace  had  offered  me,  with  that  good-natured 
kindness  which  was  so  natural  to  him,  to  conduct  the  or- 
chestra, and  Hoffman,  the  admirable  and  conscientious  pianist, 
whom  at  all  times  I  have  ever  found  ready  to  oblige  me, 
played  with  me  two  pieces  on  two  pianos.  In  these  two 
concerts  I  then  lost  twenty-four  hundred  dollars.  It  was  a 
decided  failure.  Bamum  then  made  me  the  offer  of  an 
engagement  for  a  year,  offering  me  twenty  thousand  dollars 
and  my  expenses  paid;  but  my  father  had  his  prejudices 
(unjust)  against  Barnum.  in  whom  he  obstinately  insisted 
in  seeing  only  a  showman  of  learned  beasts.  I  refused. 
We  left,  my  father  and  I,  for  New  Orleans,  my  native  city. 
My  fellow-citizens  received  me  in  triumph.  I  was  at  that 
time  the  only  American  artist  who  had  received  the  sanc- 
tion of  the  European  public,  and,  the  national  self-love 
assisting,  I  was  received  with  an  indescribable  enthusiasm 
by  the  Louisianians,  less,  without  doubt,  because  I  deserved 
it — ^I  already  have  said  so — ^but  because  I  was  first  cele- 


DEA  TH  OF  FA  THER.  \  25 

brated  in  Paris  under  the  name  of  the  'Pianiste  compositeur 
Louisianais/  From  my  birth  I  had  always  lived  in  afflu- 
ence— ^thanks  to  the  successful  speculations  entered  into  by 
my  father.  Certain  of  being  able  to  rely  upon  him,  I 
quietly  permitted  myself  to  follow  those  pursuits  in  which 
I  anticipated  only  pleasure  and  enjoyment.  Poorly  pre- 
pared for  the  realities  of  American  life  by  my  long  sojourn 
m  the  factitious  and  enervating  atmosphere  of  Parisian 
salons,  where  I  easily  discounted  the  success  which  my 
youth,  my  independent  position,  the  education  which  I  had 
received,  and  a  certain  originality  in  the  compositions  which 
I  had  already  published,  partly  justified,  I  found  myself 
taken  unawares,  when  one  day,  constrained  by  necessity 
and  the  death  of  my  father,  hastened  by  a  series  of  financial 
disasters,  I  found  myself  without  other  resources  than  my 
talents  to  enable  me  to  perform  the  sacred  duties  bequeathed 
to  me  by  him.  I  was  obliged  to  pay  his  debts,  which  my 
concerts  at  New  Orleans  had  already  in  part  lightened  the 
weight  of,  and  to  sustain  in  Paris  a  numerous  family,  my 
mother  and  six  brothers  and  sisters.  Of  all  misery,  the 
saddest  is  not  that  which  betrays  itself  by  its  rags.  Poverty 
in  a  black  coat,  that  poverty  which,  to  save  appearances, 
smiles,  with  death  at  the  heart,  is  certainly  the  most 
poignant;  then  I  understood  it.  Nevertheless,  my  brilliant 
success  in  Europe  was  too  recent  for  me  not  to  perceive  a 
near  and  easy  escape  from  my  sad  troubles.  I  believed 
success  still  possible.  I  then  undertook  a  tour  in  New 
England.  At  Boston  my  first  receipts  exceeded  one  hundred 
dollars;  at  the  second  concert  I  made  forty-nine  dollars. 
I  have  not  related  that  it  was  an  hour  before  commencing 
a  concert  at  Boston,  that  a  despatch  from  one  of  my  uncles 
apprised  me  that  my  father  was  in  the  pangs  of  death,  and 
had  just  blessed  me — singular  and  touching  wandering  of 
his  great  intelligence  at  the  moment  of  his  dissolution — in 
seven  languages,  which  he  spoke  admirably.  I  cannot  de- 
scribe to  you  my  despair,  but  let  those  who  comprehend  it 
add  to  it  the  terrible  necessity  of  appearing  in  public  at 
such  a  moment.  I  might  have  put  off  the  concert,  but  the 
expenses  had  been  incurred ;  the  least  delay  augmented  my 
loss.  I  thought  of  those  to  whom  I  had  become  the  only 
prop;  I  drove  back  my  despair,  and  played!     I  do  not 

11*  I 


126  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

know  what  I  did  on  that  evening.    H thought  it  his 

duty,  in  view  of  my  prostration,  to  riiake  known  to  the 
public  the  circumstances  in  which  I  was  placed.  I  need 
not  say  that  Mr.  X.,  who,  from  my  first  appearance,  had 
not  ceased  to  disparage  me  in  his  musical  journal,  continued 
to  attack  me  after  this  concert,  not  permitting  the  great 
affliction  which  overwhelmed  me  to  disarm  him.  An- 
other newspaper  had  the  melancholy  courage  to  say  that 
doubtless  it  was  unfortunate  that  I  hxtd  lost  my  father,  but 
the  public  had  paid  a  dollar  for  the  purpose  of  receiving  a 
dollar's  worth  of  music,  and  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
personal  aflFairs  of  Mr.  Gottschalk — a  logic  which  was  more 
rigorous  than  Christian. 

Throughout  all  New  England  (where,  I  am  anxious  to 
say,  some  years  later  I  found  the  most  sympathetic  recep- 
tion), there  was  but  a  succession  of  losses.  A.  S.,  in  a 
newspaper,  devoted  a  whole  column  to  my  '  kid  gloves ;' 
another  to  my  handsome  appearance,  and  my  French  man- 
ners. At  P.,  after  my  first  concert,  at  which  there  were 
seventeen  persons,  one  editor  gave  a  facetious  account,  in 
which  he  asserted  that  he  hated  music,  but  that  mine  was 
less  insupportable  to  him,  because,  in  the  noise  that  I  drew 
from  my  piano,  there  was  no  music.  Be  it  as  it  may,  I 
lost  sixteen  hundred  dollars  in  a  few  months. 

Killed  by  the  gross  attacks  of  which  I  had  been  the  ob- 
ject, discouraged  by  the  injustice  of  soi-disant  musical 
judges,  who  denied  me  every  species  of  merit,  undeceived, 
,  disgusted  at  a  career  which,  even  among  my  own  country- 
men, did  not  promise  the  means  of  providing  for  the  wants 
of  my  family  and  myself,  I  returned  to  New  York. 

My  compositions  continued  to  have  a  large  sale  in  Paris. 
Then  it  was  that  I  received  a  letter  from  one  of  my  old 
friends  and  patrons,  the  respectable  and  old  Countess  de 
Flavigny,  who  afterwards  was  appointed  lady  of  honour  to 
the  Empress  Eugenie.  She  exhorted  me  to  return  to  Paris, 
and  held  out  to  me  the  probabilty  of  my  being  soon  ap- 
pointed pianist  to  the  Court.  But  I  was  withheld  through 
bashfulness.  It  was  painful  to  me  to  return  to  Paris,  first 
theatre  of  my  great  success,  and  confess  that  I  had  not  suc- 
ceeded in  my  own  country,  America,  which  at  this  epoch 
was  the  Eldorado,  the  dream  of  artists,  and  which  from 


LAST  HOPE.  127 

the  exaggerated  accounts  of  the  money  which  Jenny  Lind 
had  made  there,  rendered  my  ill  success  more  striking. 

I  had  composed  a  few  pieces,  one  of  them  of  a  melancholy 
character,  and  with  which  was  connected  a  touching  epi- 
sode of  my  journey  to  Santiago  de  Cuba,  that  seemed  to  me 
to  unite  the  conditions  requisite  for  popularity.  A  pub- 
lisher purchased  it  from  me  tor  fifty  dollars,  advising  me 
to  endeavour  to  copy  the  sWle  of  the  pianist  Gockel,  of 
whom  a  certain  piece — how  I  do  not  know — ^had  just  ob- 
tained a  great  run. 

At  last  one  day  I  played  some  of  my  compositions  to 
Mr.  Hall,  the  publisher.  "Why  do  you  not  rive  a  concert 
to  make  them  known?"  he  said  to  me.  "Ma  foi,"  I  an- 
swered him,  "  it  is  a  luxury  that  my  means  no  longer  per- 
mit me!"  "Bah!  I  will  pay  you  one  hundred  doflars  for 
a  piano  concert  only  at  Dodsworth's  Rooms." 

Eight  days  after  I  played  in  this  small  hall  (whose  pro- 
portions are  such  that  I  should  never  wish  to  see  them 
exceeded,  as  they  are  those  that  make  the  piano  heard  ad- 
vantageously before  a  select  audience)  my  new  pieces, '  Le 
Banjo,'  the  '  Marche  de  Nuit,'  the '  Jota  Aragonesa,'  and '  Le 
Chant  du  Soldat.'  Its  success  surpassed  my  most  brilliant 
expectations.  During  Jive  months  I  continued,  without  in- 
terruption, a  series  of  weekly  concerts  for  the  piano  only, 
in  the  same  place,  without  being  forsaken  by  the  public 
favour.  'Le  Banjo'  and  'La  Marche,'  and  many  other 
pieces  purchased  by  Hall,  were  published  and  sold  with  a 
rapidity  which  left  no  doubt  as  to  the  final  result  of  Hall's 
speculation,  and  which  time  has  only  corroborated.  Every- 
body knows  of  the  enormous  edition  which  was  published 
of  'Banjo,'  and  'Marche  de  I^uit.'  I  then  concluded  a  con- 
tract which  assured  to  Hall  the  exclusive  property  in  all 
my  compositions  for  the  United  States.  As  Hall  wished  to 
possess  my  works  anterior  to  those  which  he  had  just  pub- 
lished, and  having  faith  in  my  talent  as  a  composer,  he 
addressed  the  publisher  of  the  melancholy  piece  of  which  I 
have  already  spoken,  for  the  purpose  of  purchasing  it. 
"Willingly,"  was  the  reply;  "it  does  not  sell  at  all;  pay 
me  the  fifty  dollars  which  it  has  cost  me,  and  it  is  yours." 
This  little  piece  was  'Last  Hope,'  of  which  more  than 
thirty-five  thousand  copies  have  been  published  in  America, 


128  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

and  which  still  produces  yearly  to  its  publisher,  after  a  run 
of  more  than  twelve  years,  twenty  times  the  amount  which 
it  cost  him.  I  have  always  kept  at  the  bottom  of  my  heart 
a  sentiment  of  gratitude  for  the  house  of  Hall,  who  first 
discovered  that  I  was  worth  something;  and  from  that 
moment  dates  the  friendship  which  unites  me  to  that  fam- 
ily, and  which  time  has  only  ripened. 

But  my  ill-will  towards  those  publishers  who,  when  I 
stood  in  most  need  of  them,  continued  only  to  discourage 
me,  increased  with  my  success.  Returned  to-day  to  New 
York,  after  an  absence  of  six  years,  and  in  a  position  which 
I  have  conquered  inch  by  inch,  I  revenged  myself  by  re- 
fusing all  those  who  approached  me  to  oflfer,  one  five  hun- 
dred, another  one  thousand  dollars  for  one  piece  only.  One 
publisher,  the  one  who  had  first  purchased  the  '  Last  Hope' 
(a  gentleman,  I  must  say,  toward  whom  I  have  no  grudge), 
offered  me  one  thousand  dollars  for  my  '  Murmures  Eoliens.' 
This  sum  made  me  smile  on  comparing  it  with  the  thirty 
doUai's,  at  which  price  I  had  offered  in  vain  my  pieces  some 
years  before.  It  then  was  gratifying  to  me  to  give  a  proof 
of  my  gratitude  to  General  Hall,  with  whom  my  contract 
had  expired.  I  sent  to  him  *  Murmures  Eoliens,'  '  Pasto- 
rella  et  Cavaliere,'  '  Qjos  CrioUos,'  and  many  other  pieces, 
aaking  him  to  fix  the  conditions  of  a  new  contract,  which  I 
was  ready  to  sign. 

New  York,  February,  1862. 

What  astonishes  me  is  to  again  find  ITew  York,  in  1862, 
at  least  as  brilliant  as  when  I  left  it  for  the  South  in  1857. 

The  majority  of  foreign  journals  give  so  opinionated  an 
account  of  the  events  of  our  war  that  it  is  impossible,  at  a 
distance,  to  form  an  exact  idea  of  the  state  of  the  country. 
For  a  year  I  have  constantly  read  that  the  theatres  are 
closed;  that  the  public  finances  and  private  fortunes  are  ex- 
hausted; that  the  North  is  a  prey  to  famine;  that  theterroris^tn 
of  Robespierre  is  revived  by  the  American  republicans ;  that 
they  kill  each  other  in  open  day  (I  came  near  having  a  duel 
at  Puerto  Rico  for  having  doubted  this  fact,  which  was 
asserted  by  a  Spanish  officer) ;  and  that  bands  of  incendiaries 
laid  waste  all  our  larae  houses. 

*^Can  you  think  oj  giving  concerts  before  a  public  who  want 


FOREIGN  IGNORANCE.  129 

bread  f^  one  of  inv  friends  said  to  me,  at  Havana,  on  learn- 
ing that  I  had  decided  to  return  to  New  York,  and,  al- 
though my  national  pride  did  not  permit  me  to  admit  that 
they  were  right,  I  acknowledge,  between  ourselves,  that  I 
thought  the  same  thing  myself.  Let  no  one  tax  me  with 
exaggeration.  I  have  still  a  newspaper  in  my  possession 
in  which  a  correspondent  writes  from  the  United  States 
that  the  depreciation  of  our  money  is  such  that  he  has  seen 
a  workman,  dying  with  hunger,  offer  a  baker  one  dollar  in 
paper  to  obtain  a  piece  of  bread.  The  number  of  these 
veracious  correspondents  increased  in  the  direct  ratio  of 
our  prosperity  and  the  umbrage  which  the  enemies  of  our 
government  took  at  it. 

There  are  but  few  governments  which  are  not  interested 
in  the  fall  of  the  republican  edifice.  The  least  enlightened 
fear  it;  the  more  liberal  are  jealous  of  it.  "  J<  is  a  fine 
thing  in  theory^  but  it  is  a  Utopia"  said  a  celebrated  states- 
man to  me.  Unfortunately  for  the  adversaries  of  demo- 
cratic principles  the  thing  so  far  seems  possible,  whatever 
they  may  do.  The  truth,  carefully  sifted  bv  the  organs  of 
their  press,  reaches  sometimes  the  people  by  fugitive 
gleams,  which  sets  them  to  thinking.  One  understands 
that,  under  such  conditions,  they  have  profited  by  the 
clouds  which  may  have  obscured  our  political  horizon,  and 
which  they  have  availed  themselves  of  as  an  irrefutable 
argument. 

When  we  consider  the  political  importance  and  the  com- 
merce of  the  United  States,  the  facilities  of  communication, 
the  numerous  works  written  on  the  country,  we  can  hardly 
comprehend  or  explain  the  ignorance  in  which  so  many 
foreigners  remain  who  are  relatively  instructed  on  the  value 
of  the  three  or  four  of  the  greatest  nations  of  the  globe. 
The  Viscount  Duquesne,  a  French  Admiral,  asked  me,  at 
Havana  in  1854,  if  one  might  venture  in  the  environs  of 
St.  Louis  without  fear  of  being  attacked  by  the  Indians. 
For  many,  the  country  remains  the  same  as  it  was  when 
Chateaubriand  wrote  '  Les  Natchez,'  and  saw  paroquets  (?) 
in  the  branches  of  the  trees  carried  by  the  majestic  floods 
of  the  Meschac6b6  (Mississippi). 

The  father  of  a  talented  French  pianist,  who  resides  in 
New  York,  wrote  from  Paris  to  his  son  some  years  since 


130  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

to  learn  if  the  commerce  in  furs  was  exclusively  carried  on  by 
the  Indians  at  New  York  ! 

Her  Highness  the  Grand  Duchess  of  Russia  asked  me, 
in  1849,  if  Barnum  was  not  one  of  our  great  statesmen ! 
A  great  French  newspaper  made  an  army  march  in  a  few 
hours  from  Richmond  to  Charleston.  I  know  that  all  this 
is  so  absurd  that  it  appears  almost  impossible ;  but  I  do 
not  advance  anything  which  is  not  true,  and  which  I  can- 
not prove.  There  certainly  is  an  intelligent  class  who  read 
and  who  know  the  truth ;  but  it  is  not  the  most  numerous, 
nor  that  which  is  the  most  interested  in  doing  us  justice. 
Proudhomme,  that  vast  and  luminous  mind,  who  always 
fights  for  progress,  sees  in  the  pioneer  of  the  West  only  an 
heroic  assassin,  and  in  all  Americans  half-civilized  savages. 
From  Talleyrand,  who  said  that  "  TAmerique  est  un  pays 
de  sales  cochons  et  de  cochons  sales"  ("  America  is  a  coun- 
try of  dirty  hogs  and  filthy  hogs"),  to  Zimmerman,  the 
director  of  the  piano  classes  at  the  Paris  Conservatoire, 
who  refused  to  receive  me  without  hearing  me,  because 
"TAmerique  n'etait  qu'un  pays  de  machines  k  vapeur" 
("America  was  only  a  country  of  steam-engines"),  there  is 
not  an  eminent  man  who  has  not  spit  his  petty  spite  upon  the 
Americans.  Perhaps  here  it  is  not  out  of  place  to  say  that 
le  petit  Amiricain,  refused  as  a  pupil  in  1841,  was  appointed 
in  1849  to  sit  as  judge  on  the  same  bench  as  Zimmerman 
at  the  exhibition  for  prizes  at  the  Conservatoire. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  there  are  immense  lacunse  in  cer- 
tain details  of  our  civilization.  Our  appreciation  of  the 
beaux  arts  is  not  always  enlightened,  and  we  treat  them 
like  parasites  which  occupy  a  usurped  place.  The  wheels 
of  our  government  are,  like  our  manners,  too  new  not  to 
grate  upon  the  ear  sometimes.  We,  perhaps,  worship  a 
little  too  much  the  golden  calf,  and  do  not  often  enough 
kill  the  fatted  calf  to  feast  the  elect  of  thought.  Each  of 
us  think  ourselves  as  good  (if  not  better)  than  any  other 
man — an  excellent  faitn  which  engenders  self-respect,  but 
which  often  leads  us  to  wish  to  reduce  down  to  our  own 
level  those  to  whose  level  we  cannot  attain.  These  little 
faults  happily  are  not  national  traits ;  they  appertain  to  all 
young  societies.  We  are,  in  a  word,  like  the  beautiful 
children,  of  whom  Montaigne  speaks,  who  bite  the  nurse's 


BRIGNOLL  131 

breast  and  whom  the  exuberance  of  health  sometimes  ren- 
ders turbulent. 

I  heard  Brimoli  last  night  in  'Marta.'  This  favourite 
tenor  has  still  nis  pretty  voice,  and  has  preserved,  notwith- 
standing the  progress  of  an  embonpoint  which  annoys  him, 
the  aristocratic  elegance  which,  with  his  fine  hair,  and  his 
handsome  white  neck,  have  given  him  so  much  success  with 
the  ladies.  Notwithstanding  the  defects  which  his  detrac- 
tors reproach  hini  with,  he  is  an  artist  whom  I  admire 
above  all  singers,  who  are  all,  for  the  most  part,  uncouth.  He 
understands  music,  and  knows  how  to  judge  of  a  musical 
work.  His  enemies  will  be  much  astonished  to  learn  that 
he  knows  by  heart  'Hummel's  Concerto'  in  ^mmor,  which 
he  studied  when,  quite  a  child,  he  thought  of  becoming  a 
pianist,  and  which  he  still  plays  in  a  charming  manner! 
He*  knows  how  to  sing,  and  if  it  were  not  for  his  fear  of 
the  public,  which  paralyzes  all  his  powers,  he  would  be 
classed  among  the  best  singers  of  the  age.  Besides,  he  is 
careful  of  his  toilet,  which,  among  artists,  is  one  of  the 
rarest  qualities,  and  which  I  place  among  the  most  brilliant 
of  those  possessed  by  Brignoli.  I  knew  him  in  1849,  at 
Paris,  at  the  period  when,  still  quite  young,  he  made  his 
dibut  imder  the  amorous  segis  of  the  beautiful  Madam  R. 

My  companion  in  the  desert  of  M ,  the  poor  maniac, 

has  followed  me  to  New  York.  He  is  wild  in  the  midst  of 
the  bustle  of  a  great  city.  He  is  an  excellent  man,  a 
striking  example  of  the  part  which  circumstances  have  in 
the  formation  of  what  is  called  a  man  of  genius.  He  is  a 
great  man  spoiled.  The  stuff  was  in  him;  but  fate  had 
willed  otherwise.  Bom  at  Guadaloupe  of  parents,  one  of 
whom  was  a  negress,  the  other  a  European,  his  taste  for 
music  developed  itself  at  an  early  age.  He  played  on  the 
violin  when  only  eight  years  old,  and  learned  alone  to  play 
the  piano.  He  wrote  verses,  read  Voltaire,  Rousseau,  and 
the  philosophers,  and  had  learned  his  alphabet  alone.  But, 
unfortunately  for  him,  it  was  before  1848.  Slavery  still 
existed  in  the  French  colony,  and  he  soon  learned  that  the 
sphere  in  which  he  must  move  became  more  contracted  on 
account  of  the  prejudices  of  caste,  as  soon  as  he  endeavoured 
to  become  free. 


132  NOT£S  OF  A  PIANIST. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Chicago,  April  14. 

The  corps  of  General  Wallace  arrived  here  last  evening. 

American  industry  is  everywhere.  The  city  of  Chicago 
is  almost  on  a  level  with  Lake  Michigan,  and  was  flooded 
about  five  years  ago.  In  certain  quarters  the  yards  of  the 
houses  had  the  appearance  of  little  lakes.  The  whole  of 
the  city  has  been  raised  from  ten  to  twelve  feet.  This  has 
been  done  by  means  of  immense  steam  machines  which 
raise  the  house,  foundation,  and  edifice  without  shaking 
them.  Fremont  Hotel,  which  occupies  a  superficies  of  nine 
hundred  square  yards,  of  cut  stone,  and  six  stories  high, 
was  raised  eleven  feet  without  any  of  its  inhabitants  bemg 
aware  of  it.  Not  the  least  shake;  only,  in  leaving  the 
hotel,  instead  of  descending  five  steps  to  attain  the  level  of 
the  pavement,  it  was  necessary  to  descend  a  dozen.  The 
city  of  Chicago  alone  has  at  this  time  in  her  storehouses 
one  hundred  thousand  barrels  of  fiour,  and  five  million 
bushels  of  grain.  In  a  few  days  Lake  Michigan  will  be 
navigated  by  more  than  one  hundred  strong  vessels  laden 
with  the  products  of  the  West,  destined  for  the  seacoast. 

MiLWAiTKEE  (State  of  Wisconsin),  April  15, 1862. 

I  have  just  seen,  exposed  in  the  shop  of  a  tinman,  a 
trophy  of  the  Indian  War.  It  is  the  banner  of  Ma-na-wau- 
na-ma-kee;  in  English,  'Great  Hole  in  the  Day.'  This 
chief,  who  commanded  the  Sioux,  became  celebrated  by 
his  audacity,  his  astuteness,  and  his  cruelty.  (Since  this 
was  written,  the  Sioux  have  ranged  the  State  of  Minne- 
sota, and  have  massacred  eight  or  nine  hundred  of  the 
inhabitants.)  I  have  seen  the  portrait  of  a  warrior  who 
had  himself  killed  two  men^  six  women^  and  eighteen 
children.  One  hundred  of  these"  miserable  beings  have  been 
shot,  and  forty  of  their  chiefs  hung.    The  trophy  I  have 


INDIAN  BANNER.  133 

spoken  of  is  a  long  pole,  terminated  by  a  little  ring,  which 
makes  it  resemble  a  butterfly  net;  over  the  ring  is  stretched, 
like  a  tambourine,  the  skin  of  the  neck,  of  the  head — all 
the  scalp,  in  fact — of  another  chief  whom  Ma-na-wau-na- 
ma-kee  Killed  in  battle.  The  hair  of  the  vanquished,  very 
long,  and  black  as  a  crow,  hung  from  the  ring  over  the 

{)ole  like  the  Turkish  standards.  The  wind,  shaking  these 
ong  locks,  caused  the  hundreds  of  rings  of  copper  and  sil- 
ver, and  the  eagle  feathers  attached  to  them,  to  jingle  in  a 
very  sinister  manner.  Every  ring  indicates  an  enemy  killed 
and  scalped  by  Ma-na-wau-na-ma-kee.  Wliat  is  frightful 
to  behold,  are  the  ears,  the  nostrils,  and  the  gaping  holes 
of  the  eyes  on  this  human  skin,  the  wrong  side  of  which  is 
covered  with  red  and  brilliant  resin,  wliich  adds  to  the 
horror  of  this  bloody  spoil.  I  had  a  great  desire  to  pur- 
chase it,  but  I  was  asked  eighteen  hundred  francs  for  it — 
three  hundred  and  sixty  doflars. 

Milwaukee  is  one  of  those  Western  towns  of  the  United 
States  which,  born  but  yesterday,  are  built  as  by  enchant- 
ment. Principally  peopled  by  Germans  (in  a  population  of 
sixty  thousand  souls,  the^  number  forty-five  thousand),  it 
promises — ^thanks  to  the  industry  of  this  economical,  labo- 
rious, and  industrious  race — to  become  one  of  the  most 
flourishing  depots  for  grain  in  the  West. 

It  already  possesses  a  Philharmonic  Society,  a  theatre,  a 
concert  hall,  and  a  magnificent  hotel.  Do  not  forget  that 
we  are  one  thousand  miles  from  Kew  York,  and  very  close 
to  the  Indian  territories.  The  cook  of  the  hotel  is  a  Borde- 
lais.  The  good  man  is  wild  with  joy  since  our  arrival. 
He  had  not  spoken  French  for  ten  years.  He  had  heard 
me,  it  appears,  on  my  passage  from  feordeaux  in  1852,  and 
absolutely  insisted  on  giving  me  a  dinner,  to  which  I  invited 
my  travelling  companions — Brignoli,  the  tenor;  Susini,  the 
baritone;  and  the  Maestro-Muzzio,  the  friend  and  pupil  of 
Verdi.  K  you  have  ever  been  at  Bordeaux,  you  must  have 
retained  the  remembrance  that  they  know  how  to  eat  there, 
and  that  the  ceppes  d  VhuiU^  and  the  rognons  au  heurre  frais 
deserve  to  partake  of  the  glory  of  the  Chateau  Lafitte  and 
Saint  Emilion.  I  must  add  that  our  good  Bordelais,  true 
artist  as  he  is,  made  it  a  point  of  honour,  and  I  declare  that 
the  salmis  w^hich  he  served  up  to  us  were  all  simply  incom- 
12 


134  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

parable.  We  have  invited  him  (the  proprietor  cook)  and 
nis  family  to  our  concerts. 

I  shaved  before  the  concert.  My  barber,  while  scraping 
my  chin,  assured  me,  with  an  important  air,  that  I  must  be 
upon  my  best  behaviour,  for  '''we  have  here  a  gentleman 
amateur  of  great  talent^'  Mercy  on  us !  who  shall  deliver 
us  from  these  amateurs  of  great  talent^  whose  species  multi- 
ply and  monopolize  all  the  little  villages  of  our  planet  ? 

Milwaukee  is  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Michigan,  which 
lake,  by-the-by,  is  as  large  as  the  Black  Sea,  ana  has  swal- 
lowed up,  during  the  stormy  season  this  year,  forty  or  fifty 
vessels. 

April  18. 

At  one  of  the  stations,  going  from  Chicago  to  Toledo, 
we  found  a  convoy  of  wounded  from  the  last  battle — ^Pitts- 
burg Landing.  It  is  a  heart-rendinff  sight.  All  the  ladies 
of  me  place  are  nursing  them.  The  '  Miss  Nightingales' 
multiply  here. 

April  19. 

Yesterday  the  ice  finally  broke  in  the  strait  between 
Lakes  Michigan  and  Huron,  and  permits  the  steamers  of 
the  Far  West  to  return  eastward.  The  West  furnishes 
grain  in  abundance  to  the  IS'ew  and  the  Old  World. 

Toledo,  April  20. 

The  rage  of  conversion,  the  fever  of  proselytism,  which 
constitutes  one  of  the  characteristics  traits  of  Americans,  is 
discovered  at  every  step  where  we  travel.  At  the  hotel  we 
found  framed  placards  in  which  the  Reverend  So-and-So 
very  cordially  invites  his  brother  travellers  to  visit  his 
church.  Sermons  every  Sunday  at  10.30  o'clock,  1  o'clock, 
and  at  7  o'clock  in  the  evening.  It  is  to  an  American  a 
great  satisfaction  to  take  to  church  his  friend  whose  faith 
18  doubtful.  To  him  the  excellence  of  his  own  religion  is 
so  clear  that  he  has  no  doubt  about  the  conversion  of  any 
one  whom  he  takes  to  his  church.  It  is  a  certain  conquest, 
and  he  has  saved  his  friend. 


MUSICAL  TASTE.  135 

Hamilton,  Canada,  April  23. 

English  soldiers,  jointed  dolls  all  of  a  piece,  very  neat, 
but  brutalized  by  the  discipline  and  religious  worship 
which  the  so-called  liberal  education  inculcates  on  each 
Englishman  for  the  hierarchy  and  the  fictitious  superiority 
of  name  and  money. 

The  taste  for  music  is  not  well  developed.  An  officer 
very  candidly  said  to  me  after  the  concert  that  the  people 
were  not  satisfied.  I  ought  to  have  played  themes  from 
the  operas  of  '  La  Sonnambula,' '  La  Lucia' — ^in  short,  a 
London  repertory ;  " that  is,"  said  he,  "some  true  music." 
"  You  should  have  played  some  themes  without  ornament." 
Let  us  never  listen  to  the  public.  We  should  hang  our- 
selves in  despair.  At  St.  Louis,  the  wife  of  a  judge  said 
to  me  that  I  was  deficient  in  charm ;  that  my  music  was 
too  learned  (I  had  just  played  a  transcription  of  the 
'Miserere');  that  I  ought  to  play  national  airs — 'Yankee 
Doodle,' '  Hail  Columbia,' '  Dixie's  Land,'  etc.  At  Havana, 
Count  O'Reilley  discovered  that  I  played  too  loud.  At 
IS'ew  York,  H said  that  I  played  too  soft. 

April  24. 

Composed  a  serenade  for  Simpson,  on  the  words  of  a 
friend  of  Pond's. 

April  26. 

In  the  car  I  met  Monseigneur  the  Bishop  of  Chicago 
(Roman  Catholic),  who  was  on  his  way  to  iNew  York  to 
embark  for  Europe.  Mdlle.  Patti  had  already  been  to  see 
him  to  obtain  the  setting  at  liberty  of  her  brother  Carlito, 
whose  name  appeared  in  a  list  of  prisoners  from  the  South. 
The  bishop  lives  in  a  beautiful  building  that  overlooks  the 
lake. 

Toledo. 

We  took  a  carriage  ride  at  Toledo  with  M ,  Carlotta 

Patti,  and  a  young  Grerman,  a  music-seller.  I  gave  him  a 
ciffar.  At  the  moment  I  was  least  expecting  it,  he  was 
taken  with  nausea,  and,  ex  aJbruptOy  he  unconsciously  be- 
sprinkled me. 


186  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

April  27. 

At  a  station  on  my  journey  back  to  New  York,  a  crowd 
consisting  of  women,  of  children,  and  a  respectable  old 
man,  in  mourning,  awaited  at  the  station  the  arrival  of  the 
train.  The  old  man  frequently  wiped  his  eyes  with  his 
handkerchief.  The  conductor  informed  us  that  he  was 
the  father  of  a  young  officer  killed  in  the  last  battle  (Pitts- 
burg Landing),  whose  body  was  expected,  and  was  about 
to  be  received  by  his  family  and  friends.  The  coffin  will 
not  arrive  this  evening.  The  old  man,  with  the  singular 
stoicism  of  his  race,  coldly  inquired  the  hour  of  the  con- 
ductor, and,  when  our  train  left,  we  saw  him  with  his  little 
company  disappear  behind  a  turn  in  the  road.  In  the 
background  we  perceived  the  principal  houses  of  a  pretty 
little  village,  whose  inhabitants  seemed  to  be  all  in  a  state  of 
excitement.  What  a  sad  thing  is  war !  The  sky  is  blue, 
the  air  bland,  the  verdure  begins  to  appear !  I  never  shall 
easily  forget  that  poor  old  father,  who,  with  trembling  lips 
and  eyes  red  with  tears,  thought  that  he  concealed  from  us 
his  grief. 

Return  to  New  York  from  Lockport,  a  journey  of  seven- 
teen hours  and  a  half.  Lockport  will  be  a  very  pretty 
town,  but  for  the  present  it  is  only  a  village,  notwithstand- 
ing its  eleven  thousand  inhabitants. 

Concert  of  four  hundred  and  fifty  persons,  who  appeared 
never  to  have  seen  anything  of  the  kmd  before. 

A  short  time  since  a  young  soldier  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  was  brought  before  a  court-martial  for  having 
been  found  asleep  while  on  duty.  An  example  was  neces- 
sary. Neither  the  age  of  the  soldier,  almost  a  youth,  nor 
his  good  conduct  anteriorly,  could  influence  the  judges. 
He  was  condemned  to  death.  The  President  was  informed 
of  it,  and,  taking  into  account  the  irreproachable  character 
of  the  poor  condemned  one,  immediately  sent  a  telegraphic 
despatch  to  the  general-in-chief  telling  him  that,  in  virtue 
of  his  power,  he  pardoned  the  young  man. 

May,  1862. 

St.  Louis  is  the  capital  of  Missouri,  and  contains  about 
two  hundred  thousand  inhabitants.    It  is  a  dull  and  tire- 


SAINT  LOUIS.  137 

Bome  town.  Like  all  American  cities  of  French  or  Spanish 
origin,  it  is  composed  of  heterogeneous  elements  which 
have  not  yet  amalgamated.  Society  is  divided  into  sepa- 
rate cliques.  The  Catholics  (old  French  Creoles  from 
Louisiana),  who,  as  I  have  already  said,  at  the  end  of  the 
last  century,  went  up  the  Mississippi,  and  founded  St. 
Louis,  are  in  the  majority,  and  are  so  much  the  more 
fervent,  as  the  Episcopalians  (Anglo-Saxons),  also  very 
numerous,  are  animated  with  the  spirit  of  proselytism,  and 
make  a  bitter  war  on  them,  which  the  others  return  with 
interest.  The  Germans  (they  are  numerous  here,  as  through- 
out the  West)  have  organized  a  Philharmonic  Society,  which 
performs  the  works  of  Beethoven,  Mendelssohn,  Schumann, 
and  Wagner.  I  was  introduced  to  an  old  German  musi- 
cian, with  uncombed  hair,  bushy  beard,  in  constitution  like 
a  bear,  in  disposition  the  amenity  of  a  boar  at  bay  to  a  pack 
of  hounds.  I  know  this  type ;  it  is  found  everywhere.  It 
should  be  time  that  many  great  unknown  musicians  should 
be  convinced  that  a  negligent  toilet  is  the  maladroit  imita- 
tion of  the  surly  and  misanthropic  behaviour  of  the  great 
symphonist  of  iBonn,  that  it  does  not  constitute  a  sufficient 
title  to  merit  the  admiration  and  respect  of  their  contem- 
poraries. Besides,  soap  is  not  incompatible  with  genius ; 
and  it  is  now  proved  that  the  daily  use  of  a  comb  does  not 
exercise  any  injurious  influence  on  the  lobes  of  the  brain. 

My  concerts  are  not  very  profitable.  We  are  in  Passion 
Week ;  and  neither  the  Episcopalians  nor  the  Catholics  go 
to  concerts  in  the  second  half  of  Lent. 

St.  Louis  is  not  a  handsome  city,  so  much  is  lacking. 
The  streets  are  badly  paved,  and  its  buildings  are  irregular; 
but  it  possesses  an  interest  for  me,  w^hich  none  of  the 
sumptuous  new  cities  of  our  continent  inspire  me  with.  It 
recalls  to  me  New  Orleans.  The  names,  even  of  the  old 
families,  are  familiar  to  my  ears.  Indeed,  a  great  number 
of  the  old  French  inhabitants  of  Louisiana  ascended  the 
river  and  took  up  their  residence  at  St.  Louis.  I  even  see  that 
the  city  was  founded  by  an  old  Louisianian.  I  too  often 
have  present  in  my  memory  one  of  those  stupid  remarks 
of  TroUope  in  his  book  on  the  United  States.  Thus,  when 
he  speaks  of  Baltimore,  which  he  loves,  he  found  in  it  an 
English  air,  and  drank  there  excellent  Madeira ;  but  never- 

12* 


138  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

theless  let  me  be  permitted  to  say,  that  to  me  St.  Louis  is 
a  species  of  relaxation  from  the  noisy  isolation  (!)  in  which 
I  live,  thanks  to  my  respectable  friend,  Mr.  B.,  at  whose 
house  I  always  find  a  home-like  hospitality,  and  whose 
family  circle  always  recalls  to  me  the  domestic  hearth. 

I  have  been  to  mass  at  the  church  of  Father  Ryan.  The 
music  rather  gave  me  pleasure ;  notably  a  trio  of  men's 
voices,  without  any  accompaniment,  in  which,  to  my  as- 
tonishment, the  voices  did  not  seem  ardently  to  wish  to 
shake  off  the  yoke  of  the  tune  to  run  at  random  into  inde- 
pendent regions.  The  tenor,  a  German,  I  believe,  reached 
B  flat  from  the  chest,  which  would  have  done  honour  to  any 
artist. 

Alas!  why  does  the  priest  who  chants  the  mass  invari- 
ably think  himself  obliged  to  get  out  of  the  key  ?  Music 
is  the  attire  in  which  the  words  are  clothed  to  do  more 
honour  to  God.  It  ought,  so  to  speak,  to  perfume  the 
thoughts.  When  shall  we  understand  that  to  sing  falsely 
and  through  the  nose  is  unworthy  of  God  ?  That  which  is 
unworthy  of  our  ears,  is  still  more  so  of  God.  What  tor- 
ture is  it  not  for  the  faithful  who  have  ears  to  hear  the 
whole  of  the  Gospel  chanted  in  a  key  lower  than  the  organ 
accompaniment!  The  priest  generally  commences  cor- 
rectly, but  lowers  his  tone  insensibly.  In  spite  of  the 
organist,  who  gives  him  the  key-note,  he  soon  passes  to  a 
lower  one,  and  insensibly  would  descend  into  the  cellar  if 
the  litany  did  not  finish  in  time. 

Why  give  to  God  the  prerogative  of  bad  music !  What ! 
shall  we  in  our  concerts  sing  just  and  true,  and  sing  false 
and  badly  to  God  ?  Understand  that  I  do  not  wish  trilling 
or  theatrical  expressions  in  the  church,  which  shock  me, 
and  destroy  holy  meditation,  any  more  than  I  would  per- 
mit wit  or  frivolous  elegance  of  language  in  pulpit  elo- 
quence. 

Noticed  in  the  choir  of  the  church  a  tablet  with  this  in- 
scription— 

**  Donne  par  le  roy  de  France,  1818." 

St.  Louis,  1862. 

At  St.  Louis  they  gave  a  serenade  to  General  Halleck, 
who  came  out  on  the  balcony,  and  made  a  speech.    He 


CINCINNATI.  139 

announced,  in  the  midst  of  an  enthusiasm  impossible  to 
describe,  the  capture  of  the  island  and  the  fort  which  for 
three  weeks  resisted  the  flotilla  of  Commodore  Foote  and 
the  army  of  General  Pope.  We  have  taken  five  thousand 
prisoners,  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  cannons  of  large 
calibre,  ten  thousand  guns,  three  generals,  etc.,  and  at  the 
same  time  the  bloody  oattle  of  Corinth  took  place,  twenty 
thousand  dead  and  wounded — ^a  sad  victory!  and  even 
sterile,  since  Beauregard  has  re-entered  without  molestation 
into  his  entrenchments  at  Corinth  where  he  is  protected  by 
formidable  works  and  an  army  of  one  hundred  thousand 
men. 

Last  Sunday  at  St.  Louis  they  expected,  at  six  o'clock  in 
the  evening,  the  first  arrival  of  the  wounded  from  Pittsburg 
Landing  (Corinth).  Besides  the  ordinary  hospitals,  they 
have  converted  two  or  three  of  the  most  beautiful  buildings 
in  the  city  into  hospitals  for  the  same  purpose. 

At  Cincinnati  I  saw  a  superb  library  and  lecture  hall  of 
the  Young  Men's  Mercantile  Association.  There  are  three 
hundred  thousand  volumes — ^all  the  French  classics — ^I 
found  there  'le  Nord,'  the  'Gazette  d' Augsburg,'  the 
'Charivari,'  'Figaro,'  all  the  illustrated  papers  of  Europe, 
and  all  the  great  newspapers  of  the  world.  The  expenses 
of  this  establishment  are  thirty-seven  thousand  dollars  per 
annum,  which  is  defrayed  by  an  annual  contribution  of 
three  dollars  from  each  of  the  members.  I  saw  there  a 
superb  bust  in  white  marble  by  our  great  sculptor,  Hiram 
Powers. 

The  commerce  of  Cincinnati  is  principally  confined  to 
lard  and  hams.  Three  or  four  millions  of  hams  are  for- 
warded from  this,  the  largest  city  of  Ohio,  to  every  part  of 
America.  I  have  visited  the  principal  slaughter-house, 
and  manufactory  of  hams.  An  ingenious  and  gigantic 
steam  machine  seizes  the  poor  animals,  kills  them,  scalds 
them,  cuts  them  up,  cleans  them,  washes  and  salts  them. 
All  this  is  done  without  solution  of  continuity,  and  if  you 
have  the  patience  to  so  and  watch  the  other  end  of  the 
machine  you  will  see  tnem  come  out  of  it  in  the  form  of  a 
ham,  ready  to  be  eaten,  from  the  poor  innocent  pig  who 
entered  full  of  confidence  the  other  side  of  the  machine. 
Nine  hundred  hogs  are  thus  dispatched  daily  ! 


140  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

May  25. 

The  news  received  yesterday,  Sunday,  of  the  defeat  of 
Banks  by  Jackson  has  aroused  the  patriotic  enthusiasm, 
which  the  rapidly  succeeding  victories  of  the  last  two 
months  had  weakened  by  inspiring  an  exaggerated  serenity. 
The  Seventh  New  York  Regiment,  composed  exclusively 
of  young  men  belonging  to  the  aristocracy  of  that  metro- 
politan city,  leaves  this  evening  for  Washington.  It 
numbers  twelve  hundred  able-bodied  men.  Seven  other 
regiments  leave  New  York  to-morrow. 

The  State  of  Massachusetts  will  send  in  a  few  days  ten 
or  twelve  thousand  more.  They  fear  that  the  Confederacy, 
on  taking  the  offensive,  have  a  design  of  marching  upon 
Washington.  There  was  a  riot  yesterday  in  Baltimore. 
The  people  wished  to  hang  a  man  who  expressed  seces- 
sionist sentiments.  An  imposing  force  of  police  guard  the 
streets. 

A  bad  business  for  me,  who  ought  to  give  a  concert  there 
in  two  days.  I  very  well  understand  how  to  fill  the  hall ; 
but  it  is  dangerous.  It  would  be  to  announce  that  I  would 
play  my  piece  called  'LHJnion,'  and  my  variations  on 
'  Dixie's  Land.'  In  the  first  I  intercalate  '  Yankee  Doo- 
dle' and  '  Hail  Columbia.'  The  second  is  a  Southern  negro 
air,  of  which  the  Confederates,  since  the  commencement  of 
the  war,  have  made  a  national  air.  It  is  to  the  music  of 
Dixie's  Land  that  the  troops  of  Beauregard  invariablv 
charge  the  soldiers  of  the  North.  At  the  point  at  whicn 
men  s  minds  are  now — ^the  hall  would  be  full  of  partisans 
of  both  sections,  who  certainly  would  come  to  blows. 
But  I  should  make  three  or  four  thousand  dollars.  It  is 
true  that  in  the  tumult  I  might  be  the  first  one  choked. 

May  26. 

Superb  concert  at  the  Academy  in  Philadelphia.     The 

Eassengers  who  left  to-day  (this  morning)  for  Washington 
ave  not  been  able  to  get  further  than  Baltimore,  the 
trains  having  been  entirely  taken  by  the.  government  for 
the  purpose  of  transporting  with  the  least  delay  the  volun- 
teers from  the  Northern  States,  who  pouring  in  from  all 
parts  are  burning  to  meet  with  the  Confederates.     This 


JOURNEY  TO  WASHINGTON.  141 

eveninff  the  whole  of  the  generals,  majors,  brigadiers,  and 
colonels  of  the  troops  from  the  State  of  Pennsylvania  have 
received  orders  from  the  State  government  to  put  all  their 
soldiers  under  arms  and  leave  m  twentv-four  hours.  The 
State  of  Pennsylvania  has  already  furnished  one  hundred 
thousand  men,  she  will  send  from  here  in  four  days  eight 
thousand  more ;  the  State  of  New  York  one  hundred  thou- 
sand men. 

I  have  played  '  L'TJnion.'  Unheard-of  enthusiasm.  Cir- 
cumstances gave  to  it  a  real  interest  which  has  been  the 
pretext  for  a  noisy  and  patriotic  manifestation  on  the  part 
of  the  audience.    Recalls,  encores,  hurrahs,  etc. ! 

If  I  had  played  it  at  Baltimore  at  this  time  when  the 
eflfervescence  is  at  its  height,  I  probably  should  have  been 
knocked  down. 

1862. 

After  having  given  fifteen  concerts  in  New  York,  and 
eight  in  Philadelphia,  I  left  for  Baltimore  and  Washington. 
My  impatience  greatly  increases  as  I  approach  the  theatre 
of  war.  I  desire,  above  all,  to  see  the  Army  of  the  Poto- 
mac. The  advanced  lines  of  the  Confederates  are  but  a  few 
miles  from  the  Federal  capital.  From  Philadelphia  to 
Baltimore  the  route  presented  nothing  new  to  me.  It  only 
recalled  a  trip  which  I  made  in  1856,  from  Washington  to 
New  York,  during  which  myself  and  four  or  five  hundred 
other  travellers  in  the  train  were  on  the  point  of  dying  of 
cold  and  hunger.  We  were  surprised  by  a  great  storm  of 
snow,  so  furious  that  in  a  few  hours  the  road  was  completely 
obstructed.  We  remained  stationary  the  whole  niffht. 
Our  provision  of  wood  and  coal  was  exhausted ;  our  food 
also.  The  cold  became  insupportable;  the  morning  found 
us  literally  buried  under  the  snow,  masses  of  which  were 

i)iled  up  above  the  doors  of  the  cars.  Our  position  was  no 
onger  tenable ;  our  only  hope  was  to  see  arrive,  I  think 
from  Wilmington,  the  nearest  town,  a  snow-plough,  and  a 
party  of  labourers.  While  waiting,  hunger  maae  its  de- 
mands, children  wept,  the  women  cried  lamentably,  the 
conductor  swore  like  an  Irishman,  and  I  myself  shivered 
with  cold.  All  this  made  a  frightful  tumult.  Mounted 
on  the  roof  of  a  car,  I  explored  the  country,  which,  as  far 


142  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

as  the  eye  could  see,  presented  the  aspect  of  a  gigantic 
cream-cheese  on  which  a  few  flies  had  been  caught.  The 
country  was  intersected  with  ditches  and  brooks ;  it  was 
out  of  the  question  for  us  to  venture  through  the  snow, 
the  depth  of  which  seemed  prodigious.  I  saw  at  last  a 
man  in  a  sled,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off.  With  my  handker- 
chief and  my  arms  I  made  a  series  of  telegraphic  evolutions, 
so  violent  that  the  farmer  who  drove  the  guardian  sled 
stopped  and  made  a  sim  to  me  to  come  to  him,  pointing 
out  the  direction  which  I  must  take  to  avoid  falling  in  the 
holes  or  ditches  hidden  by  the  snow.  After  having  disap- 
peared twentv  times,  to  be  buried  anew,  on  coming  to  the 
surface  I  arrived  almost  frozen  at  my  guardian  sled.  My 
man  gained  a  road^  which  he  knew.  In  two  hours  I 
arrived  at  Wilmington,  aud  fors^ot  my  sufferings  before  a 
huge  fire  and  a  sRce  of  roast  beef.  As  to  my  travelling 
companions,  whom  I  left  to  get  out  the  best  way  they  could, 
for  which  I  have  many  times  accused  myself  for  having 
abandoned  at  a  critical  moment,  they  arrived  hungry  and 
angry  at  nightfall. 

The  winter  of  1856  was  one  of  the  most  severe  that  had 
ever  been  experienced  in  N'ew  York.  The  bay  itself  was 
frozen  over.  From  New  York  to  Albany  the  Hudson 
was  frozen  so  hard  that  wheeled  vehicles  ploughed  the 
river  for  the  distance  of  one  hundred  and  fifty-five  miles. 
One  night,  in  returning  from  Brooklyn,  where  I  had  been 
to  ^ive  a  concert,  our  steamer  was  blocked  by  the  ice  at  the 
falling  of  the  tide,  and  I  did  not  arrive  in  ifew  York  until 
six  o'clock  in  the  morning — that  is  to  say,  we  had  taken 
seven  hours  in  crossing,  what  every  day,  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  only  occupies  five  or  six  minutes.  The 
boats  which  are  used  for  crossing  in  winter  are  of  iron; 
their  prow  is  armed  with  a  blade  of  steel,  which  cuts  the 
ice  and  makes  a  channel  through  the  solid  surface. 

At  this  moment  the  weather  is  beautiful.  The  sun  floods 
joyfully  the  country.  The  ^reen  fields  recall  to  me  those 
of  Escaut ;  there  is  not  one  irregularity.  The  river  Dela- 
ware flows  on  peaceably.  At  every  station  I  notice  pickets 
of  regulars.  Every  branch  of  the  railroad  line,  and  every 
bridge  is  guarded  by  posts  of  volunteers.    We  reach  the 


ADAPTABILITY  OF  YANKEE. '  143 

Chesapeake,  the  width  of  which  is  considerable  in  this 
place. 

Chbsapeakb. 

Crossed  in  going  to  Washington  27  May,  1862.  Spring- 
time.   Health  below  zero. 

Route  to  Washington. 

I  still  notice  pickets  of  regulars  at  every  station;  at 
every  branch  of  the  road,  and  at  every  bridge.  I  just  have 
again  a  proof  of  that  incessant  activity  of  mind  which 
torments  the  Yankee.  We  have  in  our  car  many  individ- 
uals whom,  by  their  appearance,  I  judge  to  be  Western 
farmers.  Our  train  stops  to  await  the  one  from  Washing- 
ton ;  one  of  the  farmers  has  profited  by  it  to  get  out.  I 
see  him  from  here  walking  in  a  field  alongside  the  road ; 
he  has  dug  with  his  heel  a  little  hole,  ana  he  is  about  to 
study  the  nature  of  the  ground.  No  doubt  if  he  finds  it 
rich  he  will  think  nothing  of  quitting  his  farm  in  the  West 
to  establish  another  in  these  latitudes. 

The  adaptability  of  the  Yankee  is  wonderful.  He  is 
ready  to  set  his  hand  to  anything ;  to  settle  himself  down 
anywhere  if  he  sees  the  least  chance  of  success.  His  im- 
perturbable confidence  in  himself,  an  indomitable  fund  of 
energy,  and  we  must  also  say  a  greediness  for  gain,  which 
too  often  extinguishes  every  other  feeling,  explains  his 
facility  in  adapting  himself  to  all  the  circumstances  of  life. 
My  music  publisher.  Hall,  was  first  a  lawyer ;  afterwards, 
by  turn,  a  dealer  in  furniture,  manufacturer  of  guitars,  music 
publisher,  piano  manufacturer,  member  of  Congress,  sena- 
tor of  the  State  of  Jfew  York,  general  of  militia,  and  to- 
day he  is  to  be  found  in  his  music  shop,  busy  at  work, 
making  bargains,  and  selling  my  compositions.  I  ought  to 
add  that  through  all  these  numerous  changes  he  has  merited 
the  esteem  of  his  fellow-citizens  by  the  incorruptible  honesty 
of  his  dealings  and  the  uprightness  of  his  mmd. 

In  the  Cabs  going  to  Washington,  May  27. 

Scarcely  was  the  proclamation  of  the  President  published 
(in  which  he  calls  for  reinforcements  to  defend  Washington 
in  case  the  Confederates  take  the  offensive),  than  at  once  all 


144  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

the  soldiers  of  the  Northern  States  are  on  foot.  In  twenty- 
four  hours  five  hundred  thousand  men  were  equipped, 
armed,  and  on  the  march  for  Washington.  The  Federal 
army  already  amounts  to  nearly  a  million  of  men ;  with  the 
reinforcements  which  they  will  receive  from  the  National 
Guards,  not  serving  as  national  troops,  they  might  be 
valued  at  a  million  and  a  half. 

Our  train  possesses  a  car,  fitted  as  a  kitchen  for  an  excel- 
lent restaurant,  which  occupies  the  head  of  the  train.  A 
servant  comes  to  hand  to  each  traveller  the  bill  of  fare  for 
the  day,  which  is,  yna  foi^  very  varied  and  tempting.  At 
Philadelphia,  as  in  all  the  large  towns  on  the  route 
which  had  to  be  travelled  by  the  troops  on  the  way 
to  the  theatre  of  war,  the  ladies  and  young  gentlemen 
have  formed  associations  for  the  purpose  of  providing  food 
for  the  different  divisions  at  each  of  the  stages,  in  the 
city  of  Philadelphia  alone,  the  ladies  have  given  two  sup- 
pers and  two  dinners  to  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
men. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  these  succours  are  spontaneous 
and  voluntary,  since  the  government  provides  the  ordinary 
rations  for  the  troops. 

In  every  village  the  ladies  are  enrolled  as  nurses,  and  I 
assure  you  that,  on  seeing  at  St.  Louis  the  white  hands 
that  dressed  the  wounds  of  Halleck's  soldiers,  wounded  at 
Pittsburg  Landing,  I  have  more  than  once  regretted  that 
my  laborious  profession  did  not  leave  me  the  least  hope  of 
being  thus,  one  day,  the  object  of  these  touching  cares  of 
our  beautiful  and  charitable  patriotic  ladies. 

3  o'clock  P.  M.  At  a  branch  of  the  railway  we  are 
stopping  to  let  a  train  of  soldiers  pass  us ;  it  is  the  Fifth 
Volunteer  Regiment  of  New  York  Artillery  going  to 
Washington.  They  exchange  three  enthusiastic  cheers 
with  us,  and  are  out  of  sight,  their  train  being  'an  express.' 

The  restaurant  boys  pass  through  the  cars  with  glasses 
filled  with  lemonade,  ice  cream,  and  cake.  Decidedly, 
these  Yankees  are  the  only  true  travellers  in  the  world.  At 
St.  Louis  I  was  struck  with  the  marvellous  comfort  of  the 
sleeping-cars,  in  which,  for  one  dollar  more,  a  magnificent 
bed  is  prepared  for  you,  with  elastic  mattress  and  pillows. 
The  cars  are  so  arranged  as  to  enable  them  to  give  every 


SISTERS  OF  THE  VISITATION.  145 

family  the  number  of  beds  it  desires.  As  soon  as  day 
dawns,  they  are  a^ain  converted  into  ordinary  cars.  The 
mechanism  by  which  the  beds  are  made  is  most  ingenious, 
and  does  honour  to  the  inventive  spirit  of  the  Americans. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Wabhinoton,  May  30. 

I  WAS  present  at  the  rehearsal  of  a  concert  which  is  to  take 
place  at  the  Convent  of  the  Sisters  of  the  Visitation,  during 
a  fair  for  the  poor.  The  convent,  which  the  Lady  Superior 
invited  me  to  visit,  comprises  a  small  park,  a  monastery 
for  the  professed  sisters,  a  concert  hall,  magnificent  halls 
for  study,  and  for  the  recreation  of  the  scholars,  large  gar- 
dens, a  beautiful  collection  of  philosophical  instruments, 
and  spacious  dormitories  which  hold  one  hundred  beds. 

The  young  girls  who  at  this  time  are  receiving  their  edu- 
cation here  are  nearly  all  from  the  South,  and  many  of  them 
have  not  heard  from  their  relatives  for  nearly  a  year.  A 
charity  school  and  an  asylum  for  the  poor  are  attached 
to  the  convent.  The  kind  reception  which  these  good 
sisters  gave  me  prevents  me  from  expressing  my  opinion 
on  their  music,  under  pain  of  being  horribly  ungrateful.  It 
may  suifice  for  you  to  know  that  the  only  professor  of 
music  in  the  convent  is  an  English  sister^  seventy  years  old, 
who  teaches  the  harp,  the  piano  (I  was  about  to  say  the 
harpsichord),  and  singing,  and  whose  compositions  consti- 
tute the  whole  repertory  of  the  pupils.     One  of  the  pupils, 

the  daughter  of  General  B ,  who  has  taken  New  Orleans, 

and  occupies  it  at  this  moment,  has  made  in  my  honour  an 
incursion  into  profane  music  by  playing  for  me  in  a  stormy 
manner  '  I'Orage'  by  Lacombe  and  the  fantasia  of  Ascher 
on  'Lucrezia.' 

Two  hundred  most  charming  young  girls  are  present  at 
this  preparatory  rehearsal.  Some  of  them  who  had  been 
to  my  concerts  knew  me.     I  had  requested  the  Lady 


146  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

Superior  not  to  ask  me  to  play,  the  fatigue  of  my  journey 
and  of  my  cpncerts  forcing  me  to  avoid  all  superfluous 
eflbrt,  but  soon  two  of  the  sisters  got  up,  and,  calling  to 
their  assistance  two  young  girls,  who  introduced  them- 
selves to  me  as  being  the  daughters  of  General  W , 

Governor  of  Louisiana,  requested  me  as  a  compatriot  to 
satisfy  the  desire  which  the  whole  community  had  to  hear 
me  play. 

On  leaving,  the  Lady  Superior  presented  me  in  the  name  of 
the  scholars  with  a  box  containing  some  pieces  of  charming 
embroidery  work,  which  I  take  precious  care  of  in  remem- 
brance of  the  pretty  white  and  rosy  little  fingers  which 
worked  them. 

The  convent  is  at  Georgetown,  three  miles  from  Wash- 
ington, on  an  eminence  which  overlooks  the  country. 
There  is  nothing  more  picturesque.  In  the  chapel  they 
made  me  take  notice  of  a  very  fine  tablet  presented  to  the 
community  by  King  Charles  X.  On  entering  the  city  we 
met  a  convoy  of  rebel  prisoners  and  some  wagons  filled 
with  wounded.  This  afternoon  a  regiment  of  volunteers 
from  Rhode  Island  has  made  its  entry.  This  regiment 
numbers  one  thousand  two  hundred  men,  and  has  answered, 
in  three  days,  the  call  of  the  President,  although  they 
were  fivQ  hundred  miles  offl 

Washington, 

There  was  at  Washington  a  youn^  English  juggler,  pres- 
tidigitateur,  and  professor  of  the  piano.  His  lessons  not 
succeeding,  he  took  to  travelling  as  a  virtuoso  prestidigita- 
teur.  His  exhibitions  of  sleight-of-hand  are  embellished 
with  piano  forte  variations — to  which  the  name  he  has 
ffiven  himself  on  changing  his  profession  (of  Palmer  he 
has  made  Heller)  gives  a  certain  interest,  many  persons 
thinking  that  he  is  the  author  of  '  La  Chasse,'  while  he 
has  only  become  the  rival  of  Robert  Houdin. 

It  is  asserted  that  Titiens  and  Negrini  are  engaged  by 
UUman  for  next  winter,  as  also  Ristori.  The  first  two  will 
certainly  have  great  success.  I  have  strong  doubts  about 
the  last.  Except  Kew  York,  Philadelphia,  and  Boston, 
where  there  are  many  foreigners,  Italian  is  unintelligible, 
and  a  course  of  Japanese  would  do  as  well  as  the  tragedies 


WOUNDED  OFFICERS.  147 

of  Aliieri  or  of  Pellico  for  an  audience  of  honest  Yan- 
kees. I  hope  Ristori  may  not  be  disappointed.  The  suc- 
cess of  Eacnel  in  the  United  States  must  not  be  considered 
as  evidence  of  the  taste  of  the  Americans  for  foreign  actors. 
Rachel  had  a  name  consecrated  by  a  series  of  triumphs 
without  example  for  twenty-five  years.  Her  name  had 
pierced  the  envelope  of  indifference  to  foreign  art  which  is 
peculiar  to  Americans.  Besides,  everybody  understands,  or 
ought  to  understand,  French,  whilst  the  Italian,  which  is 
not  a  commercial  language, — and  for  many  Americans  it  is 
of  no  use  except  as  it  serves  to  scan  the  melodies  in  the 
operas  of  Bellini  and  Verdi, — is  only  a  language  de  luxe^ 
and  is  not  spoken.  Except  'lo  t'amo,' which  is  proverbial, 
I  doubt  if  among  one  hundred  thousand  persons  out  of 
New  York,  one  fiundred  are  to  be  found  who  can  under- 
stand one  phrase  of  what  Madame  Ristori  is  prepared  to 
give  them. 

En  boute  for  Philadelphia. 

Midnight,  May  30.  The  battalion  of  a  regiment  which 
was  in  tne  last  battle  is  just  entering  the  station,  covered 
with  dust;  some  wounded  ofiicers  are  supported.  We  have 
just  taken  up  at  a  station  many  wounded  and  sick.  They 
are  generally  young  ofiicers  belonging  to  rich  Northern 
families.  I  have  never  in  my  life  seen  a  more  heart-rend- 
ing sight  than  the  spectacle  of  these  heroic  victims  of  our 
monstrous  war.  A  young  ofl[icer  whose  features,  naturally 
handsome,  are  disfigured  by  wasting,  enters  the  car,  sup- 
ported by  two  soldiers,  sweating  from  fever  and  shivering 
notwithstanding  the  temperature  of  June;  he  is  carried 
to  his  car.  He  is  a  living  skeleton.  I  have  since  learned 
that  the  bursting  of  a  bomb  shattered  his  thigh.  A  convoy 
of  wounded  went  through  the  town  yesterday.  The  hos- 
pitals being  full  they  were  sent  to  the  naval  arsenal.  They 
were  so  feeble  that  many  of  them  had  to  rest  frequently  on 
the  road.  They  were  escorted  by  an  immense  crowd  of 
children,  women,  and  citizens,  all  anxious  to  give  them 
marks  of  sympathy.  The  street  boys  offered  during  their 
passage  to  carry  their  knapsacks  and  arms  for  them. 

The  Opera  House  (Academy  of  Music)  at  Philadelphia 
is  certainly  one  of  the  most  beautiful  in  the  world.    It 


148  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

holds  very  nearly  two  thousand  eight  hundred  persons, 
comfortably  seated.  To-night  the  last  act  of '  La  Favorita/ 
with  Brignoli,  de  Lussan,  Susini  and  four  choristers,  and 
the  secona  act  of  '  Lucia'  with  Kellogg,  were  given.  The 
four  choristers  all  Germans.    What  pronunciation ! 

At  Washington  I  had  the  whole  diplomatic  corps  at  my 
concert.  They  were  all  placed  together  in  the  first  rows 
of  orchestra  stalls — Count  Mercier,  French  Minister ;  His 
Excellency  M.  de  Tassera,  a  distinguished  poet,  Spanish 
Minister ;  Baron  Stockel,  Russian  Minister ;  Mr.  Blondel, 
Belgian  Minister ;  Chevalier  Bertinati,  Italian  Minister, 

I  was  to  play  the  'Union,'  a  patriotic  fimtasia,  in  which 
I  have  intercalated  the  American  national  airs.  The  idea 
came  into  my  mind  to  salute  each  one  of  the  gentlemen  by 
playing  to  him  the  national  air  of  the  country  which  he 
represented.  This  entered  into  the  conception  of  my  piece, 
enlarging  the  whole,  its  title  being,  as  I  have  told  you, 
'  The  union.'  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  all  these  official 
countenances  brighten  successively  as  fast  as  appeared  '  Par- 
tant  pour  la  Syne,'  '  La  Marcha  Real,'  Garibaldi's  Hymn, 
'God  save  the  Czar.'  Not  knowing  the  Belgian  Hymn, 
I  was  satisfied  by  playing,  as  counterpoint,  to  'f  artant  pour 
la  Syrie,'  Blondel's  air,  '0  Richard,  8  mon  Roi.'  Mr.  Blon- 
del, the  minister  of  Leopold — I  was  about  saying  the  min- 
strel— ^whose  taste  for  art  renders  his  mansion  the  rendez- 
vous of  all  the  artists  that  visit  Washington,  found  my 
impromptu  to  his  taste,  and  rewarded  me  with  some  beau- 
tiful verses,  which  I  intend  to  set  to  music, 

LINCOLN. 

President  Lincoln  is  the  type  of  the  American  of  the 
West.  His  character  answers  but  little  ta  the  idea  which 
they  have  in  Europe  of  a  nation's  ruler.  Tall,  thin,  his 
back  bent,  his  chest  hollow,  his  arms  excessively  long, 
his  crane-like  le^,  his  enormous  feet,  that  long  frame 
whose  disproportioned  joints  give  him  the  appearance  of 
a  grapevine  covered  with  clothes,  make  of  him  something 
grotesque  and  strange,  which  would  strike  us  in  a  dis- 
agreeable manner  if  flie  height  of  his  forehead,  the  expres- 
sion of  goodness  and  something  of  honesty  in  his  counte- 


LINCOLN.  149 

nance,  did  not  attract,  and  cause  his  exterior  to  be  for- 
gotten. 

Lincoln  is  eloquent  in  his  own  way.  He  can  speak  a 
long  time  and  utter  no  idle  words.  How  many  great  pub- 
lic orators  would  be  embarrassed  to  do  as  much !  He  pos- 
sesses the  three  qualities  which  are  required  in  our  popular 
government — ^an  inflexible  firmness^  an  incorruptible  honesty^ 
and  good  sense^  which  make  him  find  the  natural  solution 
of  questions  the  most  diflScult  in  appearance.  Brilliant 
eloquence,  without  good  sense  and  honesty,  is  not  only 
dangerous,  but  also  of  pernicious  influence.  Lincoln  is 
essentially  good  and  benevolent.  He  loves  to  tell  jokes, 
and  does  it  with  a  humour  which  is  always  very  comical, 
but  the  salt  is  not  always  the  purest  Attic^  if  all  the  stories 
are  authentic  which  are  attributed  to  him. 

June  3. 

Gave  a  concert  alone  at  Worcester  (Massachusetts).  Brig- 
noli,  Amodio,  and  Madam  de  Lussan  are  at  Boston ;  they 
gave  a  concert  there  last  evening;  the  whole  weight  of  the 
concert  fell  thus  on  my  shoulders.  Placed  the  prelude  in 
D  flat  of  Chopin^  under  the  name  of  'Meditation  Religieu^e,' 
'LastHope,^  'Banjo,'  'Union,'  'Trovatore,'  and  'Murmures 
Eoliens.'  Recalled  several  times,  A  crazy  amateur,  having 
a  book  of  Beethoven's  sonatas  under  his  arm,  came  to  seek 
me  between  the  first  and  second  part  of  my  performance, 
requesting  me  to  play  an  andante  of  Beethoven.  I  con- 
sented by  playing  that  in  Aflat  of  the  'Sonata  pathetique.' 
I  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  my  amateur  while  I  played, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  text,  in  the  English  style,  to  see 
if  I  made  a  mistake.  Of  all  the  absurdities  practised  by 
the  Anglo-Saxon  race  in  matters  of  art,  this  is  what  makes 
me  sufter  the  most.  Their  manner  of  playing  music  is 
wholly  speculative ;  it  is  a  play  of  the  wits.  They  like  to 
see  such  or  such  chords  solved.  They  delight  in  the  episodes 
of  a  second  repetition.  "They  comprehend  music  in  their 
own  way,"  you  will  tell  me;  but  I  doubt  if  that  is  a  right 
one.  Music  is  a  thing  eminently  sensuous.  Certain  com- 
binations move  us,  not  because  they  are  ingenious,  but 
because  they  move  our  nervous  system  in  a  certain  way. 
I  have  a  horror  of  musical  Puritans.    They  are  arid  natures, 

13* 


150  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

deprived  of  sensibility,  generally  hypocrites,  incapable  of 
understanding  two  phrases  in  music.  They  never  judge 
until  they  are  assured  that  it  is  proper,  like  those  tasters 
who  do  not  esteem  a  wine  until  they  have  seen  the  seal, 
and  who  can  be  made  to  drink  execrable  wine  imperturb- 
ably,  which  they  will  pronounce  excellent  if  it  is  served  to 
them  in  a  bottle  powdered  with  age.  These  Tartuffes  of 
sound  often  commit  deplorable  mistakes.  It  is  the  Eng- 
lishman before  a  picture,  his  look  perfectly  indifferent; 
seeking  the  number  in  his  little  catalogue,  he  takes  care 
not  to  compromise  himself  by  an  impromptu  judgment. 
He  admires  only  when  he  is  perfectly  sure.  His  catalogue 
says,  ^'chef-d^oeuvre  of  Rubens;"  he  then  lets  go  in  all 
confidence  the  trigger  of  his  false  enthusiasm.  He  thinks, 
in  good  faith,  he  understands  the  chef-d'oeuvre^  because  it 
is  placed  under  his  notice  by  a  consecrated  judgment. 

The  Anglo-Saxon  race  lack  the  pensive  element,  so  in- 
dispensable in  the  arts.  Patience,  perseverance,  laborious 
effort,  excite  their  admiration.  Then,  again,  they  must 
find  in  music  the  stiff  and  starched  gait,w"hich  they  like  in 
themselves.  This  is  the  reason  of  their  rage  for  oratorios. 
They  discover  an  air  of  great  respectability  in  this  music, 
which  they  do  not  understand,  but  which  they  listen  to 
with  comic  gravity;  saying,  as  for  these  bitter  drops,  of 
which  they  are  amateurs,  "  they  are  excessively  bitter  to 
swallow,  but  assuredly  they  are  excellent  for  the  stomach." 

Chickering  has  just  had  constructed,  in  one  of  his  mag- 
nificent warehouses,  a  music  hall,  a  perfect  gem,  which  he 
graciously  places  at  the  command  of  artists  who  visit  Bos- 
ton. The  hall  contains  nearly  four  hundred  stalls.  It  is 
decorated  in  exquisite  taste,  with  gold  and  white.  Carya- 
tides support  the  ceiling,  which  is  of  metal.  It  is  admira- 
bly adapted  for  sound. 

In  the  battle  before  Richmond,  which  commenced  the 
1st  of  June,  the  aeronaut  succeeded  in  maintaining  his  posi- 
tion for  many  hours  above  the  scene  of  action.  He  had 
carried  up  with  him  an  electro-telegraph  apparatus,  the 
wires  of  which  were  attached  to  the  quarters  of  General 
McClellan  in  such  a  way  that  our  generals  were  instantly 
informed  of  the  enemy's  movements. 

The  Seventh  Regiment  of  New  York  Volunteers,  the 


A  THEATRICAL  MONOMANIAC.  151 

most  aristocratic  corps  of  the  United  States,  since  it  is  com- 
posed entirely  of  the  sons  of  wealthy  families,  have  taken 
with  them,  lor  a  service  of  three  months,  their  band  of 
music.  This  fancy  of  millionaire  soldiers  will  cost  them 
fifteen  thousand  dollars.  It  is  a  magnificent  military 
band,  numbering  more  than  sixty  persons,  all  meritorious 
artists. 

Mr.  B.,  a  furrier,  who  has  made  more  than  two  hundred 
thousand  dollars  by  selling  beaver  skins  from  Canada,  and 
bear  skins  from  the  Rocky  Mountains,  has  become  almost 
a  theatrical  monomaniac.  He  is  forty-five  years  old,  with 
a  small,  sourish  voice.  He  haa  a  daughter  sixteen  years 
old,  pretty,  but  singing  false,  and  a  wife  forty  years  of  age, 
who  sings  badly.  With  these  elements  he  has  formed  an 
Italian  opera  company,  in  which  he  is  tenor  assoluto,  his 
daughter  prima  donna,  and  his  wife  contralto.  It  must  be 
admitted  that  his  operas  are  got  up  regardless  of  expense ; 
but  figure  to  yourself  'La  Traviata'  by  a  merchant  ot  otter 
skins  and  his  interesting  family !  Their  debut  took  place 
at  the  Academy  of  Music.  The  eccentricity  of  the  thing 
had  drawn  an  immense  crowd;  all  the  rabbit-skin  mer- 
chants strutted  there.  They  applauded  Mr.  B.,  whose 
mimic  was  adorable,  and  all  obtained  a  success  in  bursts 
of  laughter.  They  were  recalled.  Miss  B.  managed 
to  appear  the  same  evening  in  four  marvellous  toilets, 
which  cost,  it  is  said,  five  thousand  dollars.     The  father, 

B ,  was  dressed  absurdly.   In  the  first  act  he  was  muflled 

up  in  a  troubadour's  cloak,  and  funnel-shaped  boots  which 
reached  to  his  waist,  and  gave  him  the  appearance  of  a 
mock  scavenger.  Besides,  he  had  not  been  willing  to  sacri- 
fice to  the  demand  of  the  stage  a  magnificent  pair  of  whis- 
kers. We  are  going  to  have  in  a  few  days  'II  Trovatore,' 
Madam  B.  singing  Azucena.  I  have  known  people  less 
crazy  who  were  sent  to  the  madhouse. 

June  5.  Second  concert  at  Providence.  AH  my  pieces 
encored.  Recalled  three  times.  After  'Rigoletto,'  the 
public  opened  a  subscription  in  order  to  persuade  me  to 
give  a  matinee,  on  the  9th,  for  piano  alone.  I  shall  play 
six  pieces  announced  in  the  programme,  and  six  others  left 
to  the  choice  of  the  audience. 


152  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

Tillman  has  taken  the  Academy  of  Music  for  one  week, 
intending  to  give  monster  representations  like  those  of 
Julien's  m  London.  Miss  Kellogg,  Madame  Hermann  (the 
wife  of  the  prestidigitateur),  Madame  Borchard,and  Madame 
d'Anffri,  prima  donna,  are  engaged ;  also,  Brignoli,  tenor ; 
Amodio,  baritone ;  Susini,  bass.  I  shall  play  between  the 
acts  two  or  three  pieces,  and  the  evening  will  terminate 
with  a  seance  of  sleight-of-hand  by  Hermann,  whose  success 
in  Spain,  ten  years  ago,  attained  prodigious  proportions. 
Hermann  has  just  made  a  very  profitable  tour  in  the  West ; 
he  is  very  adroit,  and,  above  all,  understands  the  difficult 
art  of  attracting  the  public.  His  wife  sang  at  his  repre- 
sentations ;  and  I  see  by  the  papers  that,  at  Chicago,  St. 
Louis,  and  Baltimore,  they  gave  with  some  success  the 
'  Noces  de  Jeannette.' 

PoBTSHOUTH,  June  5. 

A  charming  little  town ;  beautiful  and  clean.  All  the 
houses  are  of  wood,  painted  of  a  virgin  whiteness.  The 
streets  are  lined  with  trees,  whose  foliage,  meeting  at  the 
top,  sifts  the  daylight,  and  makes  them  look  like  an  alley 
in  a  park.  Every  house  has  a  little  garden  in  front,  and  a 
kitchen  garden  with  large  fruit  trees  in  the  rear.  Our 
arrival  was  an  event.  A  number  of  charming  young  girls 
passed  before  the  hotel  with  the  evident  intention  of  seeing 
us  and  of  being  admired.  They  are  very  pretty,  though  a 
little  provincial  in  their  stiffiiess.  At  the  station  we  met 
three  or  four  hundred  persons ;  there  were  numberless  em- 
braces. We  learn  that  it  is  a  couple  just  married  and  gone 
off  on  the  consecrated  tour. 

This  evening  a  concert  at  Portsmouth.  Extraordinary 
enthusiasm.  All  the  pieces  encored.  The  hall  is  used  on 
Sunday  as  a  church.  It  is  an  amphitheatre.  The  "  baby" 
show  which  Bamum  has  announced  for  many  months  takes 
place  at  the  Museum.     The  public  crowd  there. 

Portland,  Maine,  June  6. 

A  magnificent  concert — ^the  most  beautiful  I  have  had 
for  many  years.  I  played  admirably.  Encored  ;  recalled. 
The  hall  contains  twenty-five  hundred  persons,  and  is  one 
of  the  finest  in  the  world  for  its  acoustic  properties.    The 


MADAMINA  OF  DON  JUAN. '  153 

public  are  desirous  that  I  should  return  and  give  another 
concert.     Extraordinary  enthusiasm. 

Salem. 

Concert,  Saturday,  June  7.  Much  success.  A  small 
town.  Before  the  commercial  development  of  Boston,  it 
had  a  large  trade  with  India ;  now  it  is  torpid.  The  old 
and  rich  merchants  of  Boston  retire  here.  We  remarked 
on  our  way  to  the  hall  a  great  number  of  young  girls  going 
and  coming.  It  is  the  town  library,  and  they  go  to  change 
the  books  they  have  out  for  new  ones.  These  libraries 
exist  in  all  the  United  States. 

Leaving  at  8  o'clock,  there  remains  for  us  the  per- 
spective of  passing  a  Sunday  at  Salem.  "Rather  die!" 
said  Susini.  We  hire  a  gigantic  four-horse  coach.  It  has 
the  form  of  an  English  stage,  and  holds  four  inside  and 
four  outside.  The  weather  is  beautiful.  The  horses  pace 
the  road.  We  visit  the  Naval  Arsenal  at  Charlestown. 
They  work  there  by  gaslight. 

We  arrive  in  the  morning  at  \\  o'clock. 

'Madamina'  of  Don  Juan  is,  at  my  concerts,  almost 
always  encored.  Susini  sings  it  with  his  beautiful  voice. 
Is  it  the  beauty  of  the  music  which  is  so  sparkling  that  it 
attracts  even  Western  audiences  ?  "  Yes,  without  doubt," 
the  believers  will  answer  me.  How  is  it  that,  every  time 
he  sings  it  without  announcing  it,  there  has  been  a  com- 
plete failure  ?  Is  that  not  sufficiently  convincing?  How, 
then,  do  you  explain  the  complete  silence  of  the  public 
every  time  that  Susini  sung  the  barcarolle  of  Ricci's  'Sulla 
poppa?'  And  one  day  mat  the  programme  announced 
*Madamina'  Susini  sang  by  mistake  the  work  of  Ricci. 
Wild  applause  from  the  amateurs,  who  were  transported 
in  thinking  they  heard  the  music  of  Mozart. 

June.  18. 

Going  to  Providence,  I  found  in  the  car  Mason,  the 
pianist,  who  is  about  to  give  a  concert  at  the  Young  Ladies' 
Academy. 

The  country  is  delicious:  a  little  bay  very  near  New 
Haven ;  the  sea  on  the  right ;  nice  sailing  parties  riding  at 
anchor ;  a  cluster  of  trees  behind  a  pretty  village ;  and  a 
church  whose  sharp  steeple  seems  to  pierce  the  sky. 


154  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

Spbingfield,  Mass.,  June  28,  1862[. 

Visited  a  large  manufactory  of  guns  belonging  to  the 
government,  where  as  many  as  twelve  hundred  rifles  are 
made  daily  by  a  machine.  Three  thousand  workmen  are 
employed  here. 


Newark,  Jane  30. 


MATINEE. 


(State  of  New  Jersey)  Pop:  70,000.  A  remarkably 
active  manufacturing  town.  It  reminds  me  of  Holland, 
the  country  being  little  or  not  at  all  broken.  The 
Passaic  River  meanders  capriciously  and  unrolls  itself  in 
windings.  The  country  is  so  flat  that  one  might  think 
the  little  sail-boats  were  sailing  on  firm  land  among  the 
tilled  grounds. 

BuBLiNGTON,  Vermont,  July  3. 

A  small  town  built  on  Lake  Champlain.  I  have  never 
seen  in  Switzerland  anything  more  beautiful  than  the 
mountains  which  surround  it.  My  concert  had  attracted 
many.  Two  steamers  freighted  with  people  from  St.  Al* 
bans  and  a  train  from  Jericho  have  arrived  expressly  for 
the  concert.  Bishop  Hopkins,  of  the  Episcopal  Church, 
was  present.  I  played  for  him  the  prelude  of  Chopin's. 
After  the  concert  he  invited  me  home  to  take  tea  with 
him.  The  bishop  is  a  charming  man,  and  also  an  excellent 
painter,  I  remarked  at  his  house  a  copy  of  '  La  Vierge  k 
la  Chaise.'  His  wife  and  his  sons  and  grandsons  are  good 
musicians,  and  I  found  a  good  piano.  S'ear  his  house,  on 
a  hill  which  overlooks  the  lake,  he  has  built  a  large  board- 
ing school,  and  a  chapel  in  Gothic  style. 

En  boute  for  Montreal,  July  4. 

I  am  happy  to  escape  the  noise  of  the  4th  of  July.  I 
smell  Canada,  or  guess  it  to  be  ahead.  We  take  up  at 
the  station  passengers  who  are  recognized  to  be  Canadians 
by  their  appearance,  as  also  by  the  horrible  French  which 
they  speak.  It  is  a  mixture  of  old  N'orman  with  the  ex- 
pressions of  Molifere.  The  Canadians  are  behind  the  age 
andignorant. 


RAFTS  ON  ST.  LAWRENCE.  155 

10  o'clock.  Arrived  at  Montreal.  The  train  stopped  at 
the  station  opposite  Montreal,  which,  as  well  as  the  lake, 
opened  magniticently  on  the  sight.  In  the  distance  are 
splendid  buildings,  among  which  we  must  mention  Notre 
Dame,  a  beautiful  cathedral,  with  very  fine  steeples.  We 
cross  the  lake  on  a  steamboat.  We  are  hardly  ten  hours 
in  Canada,  yet  we  have  already  met  some  specimens  of  that 
surly,  conceited,  egotistic  type,  of  which  the  English  only 
has  (and  it  is  fortunate)  the  secret. 

Fbom  Montreal  to  La  Chine,  July  5. 

On  the  road  I  saw  a  tailor's  sign, '  Hardes  toute  faites.' 
It  is  old  French.  Arrived  at  La  Chine.  Opposite,  on  the 
other  shore,  we  see  the  church  of  a  village  entirely  inhabited 
by  Indians  converted  to  Catholicism.  It  is  called  Coylm- 
awaggher.  The  church,  whose  small  cupola  is  covered  with 
copper,  glistens  in  the  sun  like  a  minaret.  The  St.  Law- 
rence is  magnificent.  We  see  some  rafts  descending  the 
current,  it  is  frightful  to  behold.  They  cut  timber  up  the 
St.  Lawrence,  and,  to  avoid  the  expense  of  transportation, 
they  attach  the  trunks  of  the  trees  together  and  thus  let 
them  float  to  Montreal.  Two  or  three  men,  with  long  poles, 
direct  this  singular  raft.  It  would  make  your  hair  stand 
on  end  to  see  these  men  guide  them  over  the  rapids  of  the 
river;  the  raft  glances,  rebounds,  disappears  amid  the 
foam,  and  passes  the  rapids  like  an  arrow.  At  the  invita- 
tion of  three  ofiicers  of  the  Scotch  Guards,  we  went  in  a 
canoe  as  far  as  Alvarge  Island ;  two  soldiers  followed  us  in 
a  boat  with  provisions.  The  daughter  of  Trobriant,  Madam 
Stevens,  of  Boston,  Colonel  Reid,  and  two  Misses  Reid  ac- 
companied us.  We  sanff  in  chorus  the  quartette  of '  Rigo- 
letto.'  The  large  wild  hirds  flew  away  frightened  by  our 
harmonious  accents,  Kam  is  the  life  of  me  company,  as 
are  also  Captain  Blair  and  Lord  Dunmore.    The  peasants 

wear  buckles  in  their  shoes, 

July  6. 

,  Arrived  at  Quebec.  Citadel  on  the  top  of  a  cliflT  four 
or  five  hundred  feet  high,  that  commands  the  harbour. 
The  suburbs  commence  at  the  shore,  but,  to  speak  properly, 
the  town  is  wholly  on  the  top  of  the  hill ;  it  is  reached  by 
a  crooked,  narrow,  and  silent  street. 


156  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

At  Montreal,  'I'Ange  deehu'  of  Kalkbrenner  is  the 
object  of  attraction.  The  blind  pianist  Letendale  (French) 
is  very  polite  to  me.  '  La  Belle,'  the  organist  (the  Cana- 
dian names  are  very  singular ;  I  will  give  a  list  of  them 
hereafter),  paid  me  very  obsequious  attention.  Lord  Pau- 
lett.  General  of  the  Guards,  was  present  at  the  concert. 
The  pieces  played  in  English  at  the  theatre  are  translated 
from  the  French. 

The  cathedral  is  very  handsome.  The  streets  are  crowded 
with  priests,  and  Sulpician  convents  abound,  there  are 
sisters  of  every  sort,  sisters  gray,  sisters  blue.  Sisters  of  the 
Visitation,  of  the  Villa  Mane,  of  St.  Joseph,  etc.  The  old 
noble  Franco-Canadian  families  have  preserved  the  name  of 
'Seigneur.'  Is  it  simply  the  translation  of  tha  English 
word  '  Lord,'  or  a  vestige  of  the  Middle  Ages? 

I  improvised  with  great  success,  at  my  concert,  on  the 
air,  '4  la  Claire  Fontaine.'  I  heard  them  whistling  in  the 
streets  several  of  my  pieces. 

The  population  is  ugly  and  apathetic.  Despised  by  the 
English,  they  return  it  in  hatred  and  jealousy. 

On  the  terrace  at  Quebec,  I  am  five  hundred  feet  above 
the  bay,  and  at  my  feet  the  country  is  stretched  out,  pro- 
ducing a  singular  optical  effect.  I  perceive  the  steeple  of 
a  church,  its  spire  is  thirty  feet  below  me.  I  can  cast 
my  eyes  into  the  courts  of  all  the  houses  and  look  into  all 
the  chimneys.  On  Sunday  afternoon  it  is  the  general 
promenade  of  the  city. 

The  commerce  of  Quebec,  much  reduced,  consists  in  tim- 
ber, the  forests  being  immense.  The  garrison  consists  of 
two  thousand  men.  The  churches,  as  I  have  said,  are  very 
numerous,  and  exercise  a  very  great  authority.  Thus  they 
prohibit  the  theatre,  but  permit  travelling  circuses,  puppet- 
shows,  and  maffic  lanterns.  I  leave  you  to  judge  of  the 
intellectual  level  under  such  a  rule. 

Everything  reflects  the  sacristy  in  Quebec — dull  counte- 
nances, sallow  complexions,  and  thin  women.  The  streets, 
the  houses  distil  ennui.  I  see  in  the  streets  quite  a  num- 
ber of  young  men  in  long,  blue  frock  coats,  with  yellow 
piping,  and  a  long  green  scarf  around  their  waist.  They 
have  a  pretended  air  of  Seminarists,  and  the  cut  of  the  sur- 


CANADIAN  PRONUNCIATION.  157 

tout,  which  is  too  large  for  them,  and  the  bad  sleeves  recall 
the  cassock.     These  are  pupils  of  the  coUee^e. 

The  pronunciation  of  the  Canadians  is  ridiculous  and  pre- 
tentious, the  more  so  as  they  think  they  speak  so  well.  Mr. 
Cauchon  was  the  Minister  of  the  Interior  for  some  years. 
Those  are  called  demagogues  here  who  have  not  contributed 
to  the  subscriptions  for  the  Pope. 

J'aparr90uais  ein  via  (vieux)  homme  prfes  du  bonis  (bois), 
(Canadian  pronunciation).  Mr.  Cauchon  laughs  very  much 
at  the  ridiculous  pronunciation  of  the  Parisians,  "Ra- 
chail  surtout  exagerait  leu  frangais  et  lui  fesa  r^gretta  leu 
Canada." 

"  Ses  Ipuais"  (laws)  are  local ;  England  has  nothing  to  do 
with  them. 

Julys. 

Saw  the  interment  of  a  sergeant  of  artillery,  who  was 
killed  by  a  soldier.  A  detachment  of  the  17th  Rifles  of 
the  artillery  gunners,  and  one  hundred  sergeants,  with  the 
staflT  officers,  accompanied  the  body,  which  was  placed  on 
a  gun  carriage.  The  music  was  singular.  The  drummers 
beat  a  roll  which  lasted  one  bar ;  then  a  rest  for  one  bar, 
and  a  blow  of  the  bass  drum  on  the  weak  part  of  the  bar ; 
then  a  harmony  of  eight  bars  in  the  minor  mode,  played 
by  flutes  in  minor  thirds.  It  was  melancholy  and  mournful, 
and  filled  you  with  profound  emotion.  I  followed  them  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  not  being  able  to  tear  myself  away  from 
the  melancholy  charm  of  this  strange  music.  The  sound 
of  the  bass  drum  in  counter-time,  the  rests  alternating  with 
this  lugubrious  roll,  the  plaintive  melody  of  the  flutes,  and 
the  slow  rhythm  marked  by  the  tread  of  the  soldiers,  pro- 
duced an  effect  which  I  had  never  before  imagined. 

Quebec,  July  9. 

Review  on  the  Esplanade.  The  troops  are  superb,  and 
.of  fine  appearance.  The  Governor-general  walked  in  citi- 
zen's dress.  The  band  of  music  is  large,  and  has  played 
'  Dixie,'  which  is  very  popular  here,  not  only  on  account 
of  its  melody,  which  is  very  original,  but  because,  being  the 
air  adopted  by  the  Confederates,  they  are  delighted  in  being 
able  by  this  means  of  proving  their  sympathy  for  the  Soutt 
14 


158  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST, 

After  the  review,  the  band  played  'God  save  the  Queen' 
before  the  colours,  which  were  escorted  by  a  guard  of  honour 
and  all  the  officers ;  afterwards,  the  national  colours,  accom- 
panied by  the  band  playing  'Rule  Britannia,'  marched  the 
whole  front  of  the  ranks,  tne  soldiers  presenting  arms,  and 
the  officers  their  swords.  It  was  a  magnificent  sight.  The 
immobility  of  the  men  was  surprising. 

Afternoon,  4  o'clock.  Took  the  steamer  to  return  to 
Montreal. 

Obliged  to  play  for  the  ladies ;  greatly  applauded.  A 
waiter,  of  whom  I  asked  the  time,  answered  me  "  ouit- 
urecor"  (8J  o'clock). 

July  11. 

Leave  Montreal  by  the  train  for  Ottawa. 

CANADIAN  NAMES  OF  PEBSONS. 

Abraham  I'^pine.  Lapin.  La  fontaine. 

Drolet.  Lelievre.  Pain  chaiid  (doctor). 

Poulain.  Pigeon  (grain  merchant)  .Robineau. 

L' osier.  Franche  montagne.  La  chance. 

Le  hardi.  Rosier.  Genaut. 

Casse  grain.  La  voie.  La  vigueur  (violinist). 

Grenier.  Poirier.  Du  charme  (pianist). 

Pas  maL  Le  rose.  La  beUe  (organist). 

Canon  (juge).  Pommier.  L'arriv^e. 

Beaupre.  Le  meiUeur. 

Lord  Dunmore,  a  handsome  fellow  of  twenty  years,  lieu- 
tenant of  the  Grenadiers  of  the  Guards,  amused  himself  a 
month  ago,  on  board  the  Nesleville,  of  rebel  notoriety,  in 
trying  to  run  the  blockade.  He  was  very  near  at  first  being 
taken  by  the  Yankees;  afterwards  he  was  stopped  near 
Charleston  by  the  rebels,  and  was  not  able  to  justify  himself. 
He  amused  himself,  during  his  short  captivity,  by  making 
sketches.  I  have  smoked  excellent  cigars  with  him.  Kam, 
a  charming  and  very  amiable  fellow,  is  another  young  offi- 
cer in  the  Scotch  Fusileers. 

July  11. 

Arrived  at  Ottawa.  They  are  building  a  house  of  parlia- 
ment here  which,  considering  the  narrowness  of  the  town, 
and  the  number  of  deputies  which  it  is  required  to  accom- 
modate, give  it  the  appearance  of  Robinson  Crusoe's 
canoe.    As  in  Washington  the  dwellings  are  scattered.    It 


SINGULAR  TYPE  OF  FRENCHMAN.  I59 

is  a  city  in  prospect.  From  the  station  the  convent  of 
Gray  Sisters,  who  educate  young  girls,  can  be  seen.  Its 
cathedral  is  handsome,  and  possesses  an  organ  made  in 
England  at  the  cost  of  £1700  sterling.  The  Bishop  is  from 
Marseilles — ^his  name  is  Joseph  Guvges.  There  is  also  a 
college  for  young  men  kept  by  the  Oblate  Fathers ;  a  very 
numerous  order  m  Canada. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


Ogdensbubo,  Sunday,  July  12. 

I  WAS  walking  on  the  border  of  the  River  St.  Lawrence, 
whose  tumultuous  waters  rolled  like  the  waves  of  the  sea. 
The  *  Ballad  to  the  Moon,'  by  Alfred  Musset,  was  recalled  to 
my  mind  on  seeing  the  sun  go  down.  His  deep  red  disk 
drowned  in  the  violet  mist,  appeared  to  hang  balanced  on 
the  top  of  a  church  steeple,  of  which  I  "had  a  glimpse  on 
the  Canadian  shore.  The  night  drew  on,  the  air  had  a 
delightful  freshness,  and  the  streets  were  o'ershadowed  by 
large  trees  whose  thick  foliage  imparted  an  air  of  mystery 
to  all  the  dwellings.  A  Protestant  church  concealed  be- 
hind a  cluster  of  trees  attracted  my  attention.  The  sound 
of  the  organ  and  a  hymn  sung  by  female  voices  rose  above 
the  silence  and  calm  of  the  night.  Nothing  could  be  more 
beautiful  than  this  hymn ;  in  spite  of  myself  I  was  melted 
to  tears.    It  was  Sunday's  evening  service. 

En  eoutb  fob  Watertoww,  July  13. 

In  the  cars  was  a  crowd  of  soldiers  and  some  Irishmen  dans 
les  vignes  du  seigneur  (drunk\  Decidedly  I  do  not  like 
the  Irish;  they  are  a  rude,  imorant,  superstitious  race. 
Watertown  is  a  pretty  spot.  My  concert  has  taken  place 
— a  great  success — received  some  bouquets.  There  are  many 
French  people  living  here,  so  many  that  a  French  paper, 
"Le  phare  des  lacs,"  is  published  here. 

At  Watertown  I  found  a  singular  type  of  Frenchman. 
He  gives  lessons  in  dancing,  in  French,  singing,  and  fen- 
cing, and  now  and  then  is  an  impressario  and  an  agent  for 


160  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

concerts.  He  has  engaged  Thalberg  for  four  months,  and 
has  built  a  very  handsome  concert  hall.  He  also  raises 
horses,  has  many  fine  trotters,  and  offered  me  a  superb  one 
in  exchange  for  fifteen  concerts  in  Canada,  to  be  given  for 
his  benefit;  I  have  declined. 

KiNosTox,  Evening,  July  15. 

A  fine  concert  and  very  great  enthusiasm. 

17th.  A  pretty  town  more  animated  than  most  of  the 
others  in  Canada.  Much  enthusiasm  at  my  two  concerts. 
To  go  from  here  to  Toronto  we  shall  have  to  leave  at  11 
o'clock  this  evening  by  a  special  train,  which  the  company 
have  had  the  goodness  to  freight  for  me  and  my  piano. 

Toronto,  July  18. 

My  first  concert  under  the  patronage  of  Major  General 
Napier.   Some  officers  who  knew  me  in  Paris  were  present. 

At  the  theatre  '  The  Marble  Heart'  was  played,  a  trans- 
lation from  '  les  Filles  de  Marbre.'  Dion  Boucicault,  the 
prolific  purveyor  for  the  English  theatres,  is  the  most  impu- 
dent plagiarist  in  the  world.  Not  a  comedy,  not  a  French 
drama  is  published  without  his  translating  them  and  put- 
ting his  name  to  them,  and  thanks  to  some  alterations  they 
become  his  own  works. 

Batavia,  July  22. 

Charming  little  town. 

Rochester,  July  22. 

Great  enthusiasm.  The  musicians  of  the  military  band 
are  playing  under  the  balcony  while  waiting  for  me. 

Auburn,  July  23. 

Here  is  a  state  prison  which  contains  eight  hundred 
prisoners.     Magnificent  concert. 

Caxandaioua,  July  24. 

In  the  cars  three  persons  are  reading  'les  Miserables'  in 
English.  Everybody  is  at  this  time  reading  it.  Canan- 
daigua  is  a  charming  town  on  the  borders  of  Lake  Canan- 
daigua  surrounded  by  mountains. 

ISl  the  middle  of  the  town  is  a  beautiful  green  lawn  in 


THE  PICNIC.  161 

whose  centre  a  large  tree  covers  with  its  dark  shadows  a 
rough  stoue  under  which  an  Indian,  one  of  the  last  occu- 
pants of  the  country  before  the  arrival  of  the  whites,  is 
interred.  He  was  an  Indian  C^hief.  Mr.  Wood,  who  first 
settled  at  Canandaigua,  was  his  friend.  He  was  an  old  man 
who  died  many  years  ago.  He  had  never  failed  during  his 
life  to  paint  with  white  every  year  the  tomb  of  his  friend. 

Geneva,  July  25. 

Geneva  is  situated  on  the  lake,  which  is  forty  miles  long 
and  three  broad.  Immense  concert — an  inundation  of 
bouquets.  The  shores  of  the  lake  are  exactly  like  those  of 
Lake  Geneva  (Switzerland)  and  its  water  is  so  cold  that  per- 
sons drowned  in  it  never  rise  to  the  surface.  I  spent  the  day 
at  the  house  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Reed,  a  very  well  informed 
gentleman  who  keeps  the  college  at  Walnut  Hill.  He  has  a 
charming  dwelling  built  of  brown  stone,  covered  with  ivy 
and  moss.    I  took  a  sail  in  a  yacht  on  the  lake. 

July  26 

On  going  from  Geneva  to  the  extremity  of  the  lake  (in 
a  steamer)  to  take  the  train  for  Elmira,  the  most  beautiful 
country  in  the  world  is  seen.  Young  girls  from  a  boarding- 
school  are  on  board,  each  one  has  her  basket  filled  with 
dainties.  The  mistress  and  her  husband  carry  a  basket 
filled  with  cold  eatables.  They  were  going  on  a  picnic 
and  left  us  at  a  charming  little  landing  place.  The  thick 
tufted  trees  threw  their  branches  almost  to  the  water  on 
the  edge  of  the  lake.  A  white  little  church  pierced 
through  the  foliage  of  the  hill.  Shady  ravines  seemed 
to  invite  them  to  be  seated.  Decidedly  these  young  girls 
have  chosen  a  delicious  place  to  pass  a  charming  day  and 
dine  upon  the  grass. 

Elmiba,  July  26. 

Gave  a  concert,  and  (by  the  bye)  have  conducted  myself 
badly  towards  the  audience.  It  is  true  that  the  audience 
did  not  deserve  better  treatment. 

Oswego,  July  29. 

Passed  four  hours  at  Syracuse  on  the  road.  A  pretty 
good  concert  at  Oswego.     Found  there  the  excellent  Barry, 

14* 


162  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

and  his  neat,  pretty  wife,  as  amiable  as  ever.  Great  en- 
thusiasm. Tlie  commerce  of  Oswego  consists  in  lumber  for 
buildings,  and  all  sorts  of  grain.  Xear  Oswego  is  the 
greatest  flour-mill  probably  in  existence.  Last  year  it 
ground  550,000  barrels  of  flour.  I  took  a  walk  on  the  shores 
of  Lake  Ontario,  which  is  a  vast  blue  ocean.  On  my  left  a 
tongue  of  land,  covered  with  thick  shade,  ran  out  into  the 
blue  mirror  of  the  lake.  On  my  right  stands  Fort  Oswegb, 
with  its  Wooden  wharf.  I  was  on  a  steep  clilf,  about  one 
hundred  feet  high,  which  looked  out  on  the  country 
around  me. 

Rome,  July  30. 

Neat  little  village,  but  I  will,  nevertheless,  never  go 
there  again. 

Utica,  July  31. 

A  charming  town  of  27,000  inhabitants.  All  the  houses 
have  in  front  a  green  grassplot.  The  streets  are  lined  with 
trees,  wl^ich  give  a  park-like  appearance  to  the  town.  Ivy 
covers  the  houses,  and  its  festoons  reach  to  the  roofs,  fall- 
ing back  gracefully  over  the  windows. 

They  say  that  McClellan,  mider  the  influence  of  his  old 
sympathies,  and  the  memories  of  his  comradeship  with  the 
Southern  generals,  who,  for  the  most  part,  were  his  friends 
and  schoolfellows,  has  not  pushed  the  war  as  vigorously  as 
they  had  a  right  to  expect  from  him.  You  must  recollect 
that  Jefterson  Davis  was  Secretary  of  War  at  the  period  of 
the  Crimean  war,  and  that  it  was  he  who  first  discovered 
the  merits  of  Captain  McClellan,  and  sent  him  to  Sebas- 
topol,  where  he  made  himself  known  by  the  sagacity  of  his 
observations  and  the  depth  of  his  judgment  in  the  report 
on  that  celebrated  sieee  which  he  made  to  his  government. 
Others  say  that  he  is  m  favor  of  slavery,  and  consequently 
less  hostile  to  the  South  than  he  is  to  the  Republican  party 
of  the  North;  the  party  by  which,  for  some  time,  the 
President  seems  disposed  to  be  influenced.  It  is  said 
that  treason  lurks  in  the  highest  region  of  our  government, 
and  that,  obedient  to  the  sympathies  of  the  family,  McClel- 
lan has  revealed,  at  many  times,  the  Federal  plans  before 
Richmond.     I  know  nothing  about  it.     So  many  absurd 


MADAM  STEPHEN  D .  163 

and  contradictory  things  are  said  that  it  becomes  necessary 
to  renounce  an  opinion  founded  on  rumours,  and  admit  only 
those  probabilities  which  are  approved  by  the  strictest 
good  sense  and  the  most  rigorous  moderation. 

Cleveland,  Sunday,  November  23. 

It  snows,  it  blows,  the  lake  is  furious;  waves  of  muddy 
water  rise  up  like  mountains,  and  roll  and  spread  themselves 
in  sheets  of  foam  on  the  shore,  on  which  they  first  break 
with  a  crash.  I  hear  their  roarings  in  my  chamber.  No-' 
thing  can  give  you  an  idea  of  the  gloom  with  which  it  in- 
spires me.  Sunday  is  always  a  splenetic  day  in  all  Protestant 
countries,  but  in  Cleveland  it  is  enough  to  make  you  com- 
mit suicide.  Lake  Erie  is  dangerous  at  this  season;  like 
all  the  great  lakes  of  America,  it  is  a  sea,  plus  tornadoes  of 
wind  and  the  dangers  of  the  coast,  which  are  multiplied  in 
consequence  of  the  proximity  of  the  shore. 

November  24, 

In  going  from  Cleveland  to  Detroit  we  met  in  the  car 

Madam  Stephen  D ,  the  wife  of  the  famous  Senator 

who  contested  the  presidency  with  Lincoln,  and  made  him- 
self the  leader  of  a  great  party.     The  beauty  and  elegance 

of  Madam  D have  passed  into  a  proverb,  and  are  as 

celebrated  as  the  eloquence  of  the  Senator,  who  has  been 
dead  for  nearly  a  year.  She  still  possesses  great  beauty, 
appears  to  be  about  twenty-five  years  of  age,  although  her 
intimate  friends  (alas  I  who  has  them  not?)  pretend  that 
she  is  past  thirty.  Her  strictly  black  costume;  her  bonnet, 
from  which  peeps  out  the  widow's  cap  of  while  tulle,  mar- 
velously  sets  on  the  beauty  of  her  complexion  and  the 
regularity  of  her  features.  She  is  a  woman  such  as  doubt- 
less the  Greeks  imagined  when  they  consecrated  a  worship 
to  beauty,  and,  after  having  once  seen  her,  it  is  more  diflii- 
cult  to  forget  her  than  to  nave  her  always  present  to  the 
imagination. 

Toledo,  November  26,  1862. 

Nothing  interesting.  Audience  stupid.  In  the  Artist's 
Room  there  was  a  bill  attached  to  the  wall:  "If,  before 
commencing  the  concert,  the  performers  do  not  pay  the 
rent  of  the  nail,  the  porter  has  orders  from  the  proprietors 


164  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST, 

to  turn  off  the  gas."  That  does  not  give  us  a  very  high 
idea  of  the  honesty  of  the  artists  who  have  performed  be- 
fore the  Toledian  public,  or  of  the  liberality  of  the  ama- 
teurs of  the  town. 

November  27. 

Groinff  from  Toledo  to  Erie  (Pennsylvania),  on  a  seat  near 
me  in  the  smoking-car,  some  farmer,  without  doubt,  played 
the  fife.  He  studied  conscientiously.  His  stock  of  music  was 
limited  to  some  Scotch  and  Irish  airs.  Only  he  played  every- 
thing in  F.  I  should  have  seen  nothing  amiss  in  it  if  he 
had  not  invariably  taken  it  into  his  head  to  play  B  natural 
instead  of  B  flat.  At  the  beginning  I  was  shocked,  but  at 
length  I  was  singularly  pleased  with  it.  The  obliterated 
note  once  introduced  there  was  a  fight  between  the  C  and 
F,  which,  by  turns,  seeming  to  dispute  the  possession  of  the 
singular  and  melancholy  harmony,  plunged  me  into  a  sleepy 
reverie.  I  saw  unfolded  before  my  eyes  all  sorts  of  charm- 
ing things,  without  doubt,  since  they  ravished  me  as  long 
as  my  reverie  lasted,  but  I  was  not  able  afterwards  to  recall 
them.  The  Scotch  melodies  are,  according  to  my  mind, 
those  which  have  the  most  character;  it  is,  in  truth,  the 
music  of  the  mountains  and  of  fantastic  legends.  I  dis- 
cover in  it  the  reflection  of  the  Scottish  character,  mystical, 
exalted,  very  superstitious,  poetic,  dreamy,  and  wild.  Its 
intervals  of  a  fourth,  and  the  frequent  employment  of  the 
plagal  chord,  the  rhythm  weakened  by  the  absence  of  accen- 
tuated cadences,  powerfully  contribute  to  give  them  their 
character  of  strange  melancholy  and  of  twilight  poesy. 

Ebie,  Pennsylvania,  November  27. 

Three  or  four  days  ago,  being  at  Cleveland  at  the  hotel 
Augier  (the  most  frightful,  filthy  eating-house  in  the 
world),  I  was  looking  through  the  window  and  saw  at 
some  distance  a  small  cemetery.  A  rector,  to  whom  I  had 
been  introduced  that  morning,  told  me  respecting  this  sub- 
ject, that  the  cemetery  had  for  many  days  been  the  theme 
of  conversation,  that  every  night  for  a  week  past  a  ghost 
took  his  pastime  there,  and  adventured  even  into  the 
streets.  Some  women  were  said  to  have  seen  it.  The  story 
appeared  foolish  to  me,  like  all  ghost  stories.    ^Nevertheless 


THE  WARRANT  OF  ARREST.  165 

I  read  in  a  Cleveland  paper  this  evening  the  following 
article :  "  Last  night  two  Irish  servants  met  the  ghost  of 
the  cemetery  in  Erie  Street.  The  fright  which  these  poor 
girls  received  has  been  such  that  one  of  them  fainted,  and 
the  other  has  had  a  nervous  attack,  which  still  continues, 
and  places  her  life  in  danger." 

Sandusky,  Ohio,  December  4. 

Small  town  and  very  strange  audience.  The  applause 
here  consists  of  whistling,  which  frightened  Patti  very 
much. 

In  the  car  where  I  have  gone  to  smoke,  I  find  myself 
in  the  midst  of  a  mountain  of  trunks.  I  end  by  squatting 
down  among  them,  from  whence  I  hear  the  conductor  say 
to  his  companion,  "  I  have  there  two  embalmed  bodies !" 
Imagine  what  I  felt ! 

Zaitesvillb,  Ohio,  December  5. 

There  were  many  soldiers  in  the  audience.  The  hotel 
very  passable,  and  the  landlord  did  all  he  could  to  be  agree- 
able to  us.  I  forgot  to  mention  a  remarkable  incident  at 
Sandusky.  During  the  concert  a  warrant  of  arrest  for  me 
because  I  had  not  paid  the  license  to  the  town.  "  Very 
well !  Let  us  pay  the  six  dollars,  and  I  do  not  go  to  prison." 
These  things  are  amusing,  and  break  the  monotony  of  our 
existence.  I  had  just  finished  'Murmures  Eoliens,'  which 
the  public  had  encored.  I  returned  into  the  artist's  room, 
and  found  myself  in  the  presence  of  the  constable.  Oh ! 
the  instability  of  human  things.  On  the  one  side  glory, 
on  the  other  the  sombre  dungeons  of  Sandusky.  The  Capi- 
tol and  the  Tarpeian  Rock!  Strakosch,  the  new  Becius, 
has  offered  himself  up,  and,  thanks  to  six  dollars,  has  saved 
me  from  the  horror  of  captivity. 

December  6. 

In  going  from  Zanesville  to  Columbus,  after  seeking  in 
vain  for  a  seat  in  the  smoking-car,  I  found  myself  in  a  car 
filled  with  men  badly  clothed  and  with  long  beards.  I 
thought  at  first  that  they  were  recruits,  but  Teamed  that 
they  were  prisoners  of  war,  and  had  no  more  doubt  on  the 
subject  on  hearing  one  of  them  whistle  'Dixie.'    Not  hav- 


166  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

ing  any  seat  I  was  invited  by  a  young  and  handsome  fellow 
of  twenty  years  to  sit  down  alongside  of  him.  He  had  an 
old  torn  hat  and  an  old  blanket  on  his  shoulder.  This 
young  man  was  from  Virginia,  and,  judging  from  his  re- 
fined manners,  belonged  to  a  good  family.  His  behaviour 
singularly  contrasted  with  his  tattered  dress.  They  were  all 
unaer  the  guard  of  three  or  four  officers  and  soldiers  of  the 
United  States.  This  sight  was  heartrending.  One  of  the 
soldiers  bought  five  cents'  worth  of  pop-corn,  and  gave  a 
handful  to  one  of  the  prisoners,  who  shared  it  witn  two 
other  companions.  I  wished  also  to  give  them  something, 
but  was  afraid  from  fear  of  compromising  myself.  These 
poor  unfortunates  wore  that  air  of  indifference  and  stoi- 
cism which  the  miseries  and  sufterings  of  war  have  unhap- 
pily impressed  on  their  countenances. 

Is  it  not  singular  that  Americans  who  seem  to  possess  a 
clear  and  practical  judgment  and  more  than  an  ordinary 
power  for  understanding  principles,  as  soon  as  they  enter 
into  the  domain  of  the  aesthetics  of  art,  for  the  most  part, 
go  astray,  and  repeat  absurdities  which  their  good  sense 
should  make  them  reject  ?  I  lately  made  these  reflections 
on  reading  an  article  on  Blind  Tom,  in  a  magazine  re- 
markable for  the  talent  of  its  contributors  and  the  general 
tone  of  its  articles.  I  refer  to  the  '  Atlantic  Monthly.' 
The  author  of  this  article,  himself  without  doubt  a  talented 
writer,  judging  from  his  style,  asserts  so  many  errors  and 
commits  so  many  blunders  that  it  is  impossible  for  those 
competent  in  the  art  to  permit  the  further  continuance  of 
the  celebrity  of  Blind  Tom,  whose  title  to  posterity,  as  a 
musician,  is,  I  fear,  as  authentic  as  that  of  the  old  negress 
of  Bamum  to  have  been  Washington's  nurse.  And,  first, 
what  would  you  say  of  an  audience  who  should  declare 
exact  a  repetition,  made  by  a  child  from  memory,  of  five 
or  six  thousand  words  which  it  had  heard  but  once  ?  You 
certainly  would  say,  that  an  audience  capable  of  verifying 
from  memory  such  a  long  discourse  would  be  altogether  as 
phenomenal  as  the  phenomenon  itself.  Nevertheless  mjr 
hypothesis  is  based  upon  a  discourse  that  is  in  words  fami- 
liar even  to  the  ears  of  a  child,  on  matters  having  relation 
to  human  passion,  to  its  interest,  its  affections,  that  is  to 


BLIND  TOM.  167 

say,  on  things  which  all  comprehend,  know,  and  feel.  But 
with  Tom  we  have  to  deal  with  music,  that  is  to  say,  an  art 
whose  subtilty  must  necessarily  escape  the  profane.  '  Tom,' 
says  the  author,  'repeats  the  piece  from  memory.'  This  is 
supposing,  what  is  not  proved,  that  Tom  had  no  knowledge 
of  the  piece ;  what  was  the  piece  ?  If  it  was  simply  one  of 
those  known  melodies  witn  ite  invariable  dress  of  varia- 
tions consecrated  by  long  usage,  I  shall  astonish  no  person 
by  remarking,  that  any  child  studying  music  and  endowed 
with  a  good  musical  organism,  does  as  much  every  day. 
If  the  piece  is  difficult  and  complicated,  I  absolutely  chal- 
lenge the  competency  of  the  public  to  judge  the  correct 
accuracy  of  its  reproduction.  The  writer  of  the  article 
will  pardon  me  for  telling  him  that  he  recalls  to  me  an 
audience  that  I  saw  assembled,  to  be  present  at  a  most  ex- 
traordinary thing  that  a  mathematical  phenomenon  was 
about  to  perform,  which  was  instantaneously  from  memory 
to  resolve  the  most  complicated  problems.  Mr.  Ampfere  of 
the  Academy  proposed  a  most  difficult  problem  to  him. 
The  infant  prodigy  gave  him  an  answer,  and  the  audience 
applauded  with  confidence  to  the  skies.  He  might  have  an- 
swered whatever  he  wished,  the  honest  people  did  not  know 
a  word  of  algebra,  and  ingenuously  thought  that  what  they 
heard  was  really  marvellous.  I  will  go  further  and  affirm 
that '  Yankee  Doodle'  can  be  played  m  five  hundred,  six 
hundred,  or  one  thousand  different  ways,  provided  the 
theme  is  generally  preserved,  without  more  than  ten  in  the 
audience  perceiving  the  least  difference. 

December. 

Invariably  at  every  concert  a  small  note  of  'Pattes  de 
Mouches'  requests  me  to  play  'Last  Hope.'  The  other 
day  I  received  one  composed  as  follows:  "Mr.  G.,  voudra 
t'il  bien  faire  le  plaisir  k  36  jeunes  fiUes  de  jouer  la  'Demiere 
Esp6rance'  qu'elles  jouent  toutes." 

» 

At  Cleveland  the  cold  is  intense,  the  north  wind  blows, 
the  lake  roars.  To  complete  our  misfortune  we  go  down 
to  the  'Augier  House,'  where  it  appears  that  the  old  pro- 
prietor has  sold  out,  and  the  new  has  not  yet  taken  posses- 
sion ;  we  fall  into  an  interregnum,  that  is  to  say,  something 


168  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

which  is  not  anarchy,  but  not  much  better.  Besides,  the 
stoves  are  broken,xand  everywhere  in  the  hotel  we  are 
frozen.  The  meals  take  place  at  such  precise  intervals  and 
the  discipline  is  so  severe^  that  you  are  always  too  soon  for 
dinner,  or  else  come  in  when  it  is  over,  unless  you  stand  on 
guard  in  the  passage  and  push  your  way  in  at  a  given 
moment.  We  ask  for  the' wine-card,  an  interminable  list 
is  handed  to  us,  but  it  is  not  possible  to  obtain  any  of  them. 
Nevertheless,  we  finally  obtain  a  bottle  of  Lafitte,  but  not 
having  any  salad  to  dress,  we  think  it  more  prudent  not 
to  drink  it.  In  return  the  bills  are  swollen  in  the  ratio  of 
what  we  have  suffered.  On  venturing  a  trivial  remark, 
we  are  insulted. 

Madison,  Wisconsin,  December,  1862. 

This  town  is  hardly  more  than  twelve  years  old,  and 
nevertheless  is  already  remarkable.  The  cathedral  (Cath- 
olic) and  the  marble  capitol  are  superb. 

December  12,  1862. 

Mdnseigneur  the  Archbishop  of  Cincinnati  last  Sunday 
preached  a  sermon  of  which  this  is  very  near  the  tenor. 
He  is  not  a  precisian  and  voluntarily  practises  tolerance, 
seeing  that  he  detests  above  everything  the  spirit  of  Puri- 
tanism, but  the  theatre  is  to-day  so  scandalous  that  he  can 
no  longer  close  his  eyes  to  the  deplorable  eftects  which  it 

Eroduces  upon  the  masses.  He  glorifies  himself  for  never 
aving  put  his  foot  in  such  a  place,  and  for  never  having 
seen  a  theatrical  play.  He  has  never  even  read  a  play  of 
Shakespeare's,  etc.,  and  ended  by  recalling  to  his  audience 
how  much  Bossuet  condemned  the  theatre,  and  made  allu- 
sion to  the  discussion  of  the  Bishop  of  Meaux  with  an 
Italian  monk.  He  recalled  to  himself,  having  heard  that 
an  actor  who  filled  the  character  of  a  bishop  in  a  theatrical 
play  was  struck  with  paralysis  in  the  risjht  arm  during  the 
representation — "a  judgment  of  God,"  be  added.  Behold 
what  is  unfortunately  the  state  of  religion  in  the  United 
States;  it  struggles  with  the  convulsions  of  the  Shakers; 
with  the  inspired ;  with  the  Methodist  shouters  of  camp- 
meetings  ;  with  the  Mormons ;  and  the  superannuated  thun- 
ders of  ignorant  Ultramontanes.     Since  I  have  visited 


IRISH  EMIGRATION.  169 

Canada  and  have  been  able  to  measure  the  degree  of  brutish- 
ness  to  which  the  absolute  reign  of  faith  as  understood  by 
the  Marist  fathers  and  the  Sulpieians  can  lead  a  people,  I 
tremble,  on  seeing  the  Irish  emigration  increased  in  a  ratio 
that  threatens  to  overrun  the  whole  United  States ;  it  is  the 
saddest  of  all  on  account  of  the  ignorance,  the  brutal  in- 
stincts, and  the  blind  and  ferocious  superstition  of  all  the 
Irish.  I  however  do  not  know  which  I  should  fear  the  more, 
the  fanatics  of  the  Bible  or  the  fanatics  of  Rome.  The  Puri- 
tans are  as  rabid  as  the  monks  of  the  fifteenth  century.  They 
think  only  of  proselytisra,  and  of  the  propagation,  in  spite 
of  everything,  of  their  faith.  Like  all  other  fanatical  sects, 
they  have  forgotten  the  spirit  to  attach  themselves  to  the 
mere  letter.  Ei  1856,  in  the  State  of  New  York,  individual 
subscribers  had  furnished  more  than  one  hundred  thousand 
dollars  for  the  purpose  of  printing  Bibles !  It  is  impossible 
to  be  serious  in  thinking  on  the  results  obtained  by  these 
immense  eflforts !  Fifty  thousand  Bibles  sent  to  China, 
six  thousand  Bibles  to  Chandemagore,  five  thousand  little 
books  to  the  coast  of  Africa — and  in  English.  Is  it  not  a 
monomania,  and  ought  not  this  way  of  imderstanding 
religion  to  be  cured  by  cold-water  baths  ? 

Indianapolis,  December  15. 

Alongside  of  my  own  chamber  I  have  that  of  a  major, 
who  has  been  sick  for  two  months.  He  is  under  an  indict- 
ment for  disobeying  the  orders  of  his  superior.  Four 
soldiers  are  on  guard  in  the  corridor,  and  two  sentinels 
guard  his  door.  The  State  of  Indiana  has  a  formidable 
party  in  favour  of  the  rebellion.  One  of  the  soldiers  coughed 
horribly.  I  offered  him  a  lozenge,  which  has  cured  me  of  a 
cold  from  which  I  was  suffering  greatly  for  some  days.  He 
accepted  it  with  thanks.  At  me  moment  of  swallowing  it, 
one  of  his  comrades  said  to  me,  distrustfully,  "  Ah,  ha!  are 
you  not  a  secessionist!  We  shall  die  soon  enough  without 
your  coming  to  poison  us."     Poor  unfortunates! 

The  snow  has  been  let  loose  over  the  whole  country  that 
I  have  travelled  through  for  the  last  two  days  (from  Ken- 
tucky to  Indiana).  I  think  with  heart-breaking  of  the 
wretched  men  in  the  field ;  of  thousands  of  men  without 
shelter,  sleeping  on  the  snow,  and  not  having  even  a  blanket. 
15 


170  NOTES  O^A  PIANIST. 

I  met  at  Louisville  an  inspector  of  cavalry,  an  old  lieuten- 
ant in  the  Belgian  Guards.  He  has  already  inspected  in 
the  three  months  he  has  been  in  Kentucky  fifteen  new  regi- 
ments of  cavalry.  The  personnel  and  equipage  he  told  me 
are  magnificent.  Our  artillery  also  is  immense,  and  I  do 
not  believe  that  finer  could  be  found  in  Europe. 

For  four  days  the  telegraph  has  been  giving  us  eventful 
news  of  a  great  battle  which  is  being  fought  at  Fredericks- 
burg. The  whole  force  of  two  great  armies  are  engaged. 
The  result  is  still  undecided.    The  carnage  will  be  frightful. 

What  singular  audiences  I  meet  with !  You  can  imagine 
what  the  population  of  little  towns  must  be,  which,  founded 
only  seven  or  eight  years  affo,  nevertheless  give  receipts  of 
three  or  four  hundred  dollars,  and  sometimes  more.  The 
other  evening  an  honest  farmer  asked  me,  before  the  concert, 

Eointing  to  my  piano,  what  that  "big  accordeon  was."  He 
ad  seen  square  pianos,  upright  pianos,  but  the  tail  bothered 
him.  Eiffht  or  ten  days  since,  at  Zanesville,  a  charming 
young  gin,  and  her  honourable  mamma,  passed  the  whole  of 
the  concert  in  watching  my  feet.  They  did  not  know  the 
use  of  the  pedals,  and  saw  in  my  movements  only  a  kind 
of  queer  trembling,  and  odd  and  rudimentary  steps  in 
dancing  which,  for  two  hours  and  a  quarter,  aftbrded  them 
an  inexhaustible  source  of  amusement.  They  were  on  the 
front  bencheSj'and  greatly  annoyed  me. 

What  with  difliculty  I  become  accustomed  to  are  the 
whistlings  of  some  enthusiasts.  Whistling  is  here  applause 
carried  to  its  highest  point.  Where  the  hands  and  the  voice 
would  be  insufficient,  they  have  recourse  to  whistling. 
Another  annoyance  is  the  people  who  arrive  late  at  the 
concert,  and  who  traverse  the  hall  in  the  middle  of  a  piece, 
marching  as  if  they  were  marking  time  for  a  battalion  of 
raw  recruits.  There  are  also  those  who  talk  during  the 
concert.,  but  as  these  last  are  not  found  only  in  the  concert 
hall,  I  merely  speak  of  them  by  way  of  memorial. 

I  live  on  the  railroad — my  home  is  somewhere  between 
the  baggage  car  and  the  last  car  of  the  train.  Certain  natu- 
ralists pretend  that  insects  reflect  in  their  physiological  con- 
formation the  peculiar  characters  of  the  vegetation  upon 
which  they  live.  According  to  this  (if  this  peculiarity  of 
insects  extends  as  far  as  pianists)  I  ought  to  have  the  gait  of 


GOTTSCHALK  ABOUT  TO  MARRY.  171 

a  locomotive  and  the  intelligence  of  a  band-box.  All 
notions  of  time  and  space  are  effaced  from  my  mind.  Just 
like  the  drunkard,  of  whom  some  one  asked  the  distance 
between  the  Chaussee  d'Antin  and  the  Porte  St.  Denis, 
who  replied,  ''ten  small  glasses."  If  you  ask  me  what 
time  it  is,  I  will  reply,  "  It  is  time  to  shut  up  my  trunk," 
or  "  It  is  time  to  play  the  banjo,"  or  "It  is  time  to  put  on 
my  black  coat."  These  three  events  are  very  nearly  the 
most  memorable  of  my  daily  existence.  I  console  myself 
by  thinking  that  I  am  not  the  only  one  of  my  species. 

Chicaoo,  December  20. 

I  have  just  read  in  a  Milwaukee  paper  (Wisconsin)  that 
Richard  Storr  Willis,  in  his  magazine  of  'Once  a  Month,' 
announces  that  "Gottschalk  is,  it  is  said,  about  to  marry  a 
young  lady — a  millionaire — of  New  York."  Permit  me  to 
assert  that  the  news  is  not  true.  Receive  the  assurance  of 
it,  O  mjr  friends,  with  all  the  affliction  which  I  have  in 
giving  it  to  you.  No,  alas!  I  have  not  this  moment  the 
feast  nope  of  ever  attaining  that  oasis  in  life  which  is  called 
marriage.  I  have  not  yet  arrived  at  that  blest  haven,  where 
after  so  many  storms  and  tempests  I  might  cast  anchor,  and 
my  fiancee  opulente  is  a  myth,  which,  as  I  advance  along 
the  arid  path  of  celibacy,  becomes  more  and  more  fabulous. 
Is  it  not  sad?  and  are  we  not  worthy  of  pity — ^we  old 
bachelors  who,  like  stray  travellers,  see  the  fatal  time  draw 
near  when  we  shall  remain  alone  on  the  road  of  life?  We 
must  travel  the  desolate  way  which  still  separates  us  from 
the  soverei^i  goal,  without  a  holy  love  to  partake  our  joys 
and  our  griefs,  or  a  friendly  arm  to  sustam  us  in  our  last 
hours. 

Not  being  able  to  do  better,  I  console  myself  by  thinking 
on  the  muse,  the  eternal  bride  always  young,  always  con- 
stant for  those  who  love  her,  and  whose  chaste  caresses  defy 
the  outrages  of  time.  For  her,  there  are  no  old  bachelors,, 
no  wrinkles,  no  white  hairs,  no  winter  of  life,  but  the  per- 

Eetual  sprinff-time  of  illusions.  She  sweetly  sings  in  my 
eart  marvellous  things  which  ravish,  console,  and  soothe 
my  grief,  and  her  seductions  are  as  powerful  at  the  close  as 
at  the  dawn. 

But  I  perceive  that  I  have  become  pathetic,  and  after 


172  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

havinff  carefully  driven  back  the  solitary  tear  which  curi- 
ously hangs  to  the  balcony  o^  one  of  my  eyelashes,  seeming 
to  admire  the  lyrical  sentence  which  1  have  just  written, 
'  je  reviens  k  mes  moutons/  My  marriage  has  been  an  old 
rumour  for  ten  years,  which  makes  its  appearance  periodi- 
cally by  changing,  only  to  rejuvenate  itself,  the  initial  of  the 
myth  to  whom  I  am  engaged. 

Between  South  America  and  the  United  States  it  has  so 
often  been  said  that  I  was  married  or  dead,  that  if  onlv 
one-half  of  the  deadly  and  matrimonial  events,  of  which 
they  have  made  me  the  hero,  were  realized,  I  should  have 
had  the  fortune  of  half-a-dozen  funereal  shows,  and  should 
have  been  obliged  long  since  to  emigrate  to  Utah  to  avoid 
certain  nice  susceptibilities  of  our  modem  legislation. 

These  apocryphal  marriages  recall  to  me  the  poor  devil 
of  a  dervish  in  an  Arab  tale,  who,  with  empty  stomach  and 
purse,  was  invited  to  dine  tite-drtite  with  an  opulent  noble- 
man, but  of  capricious  disposition,  at  Bagdad.  The  table 
was  sumptuous,  the  crystal  sparkling,  and  vessels  of  gold 
and  silver  covered  it  in  profusion.  The  master  of  the  house 
did  the  honors  magnificently.  "This  salmis  de  faisan  is 
delicious,  permit  me  to  offer  you  some.  Taste  of  this  wine 
of  Schiraz,  it  is  exquisite ;  these  figs  of  Damascus  are  divine," 
repeated  the  master  of  the  feast  as  he  presented  the  plates 
and  decanters  to  him. 

Salmis  de  faisan,  figs  from  Damascus,  and  wine  from 
Schiraz!  The  devil,  you  will  say,  this  lord  of  Bagdad  pre- 
pared good  things,  and  your  dervish  is  a  fortunate  fellow ! 
Do  not  be  too  hasty  in  your  judgment,  and,  above  all,  do 
not  interrupt  me  any  more;  on  which  I  proceed. 

Far  from  being  fortunate  my  dervish  is  suffering  the 
tortures  of  Tantalus,  seeing  that  the  plates  and  decanters 
contain  nothina^  which,  however,  does  not  prevent  the  host 
from  pretending  to  taste  the  one  and  to  relish  the  empti- 
ness of  the  others.  The  dervish  awaits  with  anxiety  the 
arrival  of  each  new  dish  hoping  to  be  more  fortunate,  but 
the  courses  succeed  each  other  in  the  midst  of  all  the  usual 
ceremonies  of  a  great  feast  without  the  shadow  of  any  food 
appearing,  and  the  poor  dervish' leaves  the  table,  his  spirit 
saturated  with  the  gastronomic  vapours  of  this  imaginary 


CHICA  GO  AND  MIL  WA  UKEE.  173 

repast,  but  with  empty  stomach  and  more  hungry  than 
ever. 

I  am  the  dervish  and  the  newspapers  which  marry  me 
to  fanciful  young  heiresses  are  so  many  opulent  noblemen 
of  Bagdad,  and  you  will  discover  the  moral  to  my  cost 
without  my  assistance,  and  as  I  shall  be  accused  of  writing 
without  any  reason  what  possesses  as  little  substance  as  the 
repast  offered  to  the  dervish,  I  hasten  to  speak  about  my 
concerts  at  Chicago,  which  have  been  very  substantial  as 
to  the  receipts.  I  have  given  there  four  concerts,  and  must 
return  there  to-morrow  to  give  the  fifth  and  last.  Chicago, 
of  all  the  Western  cities,  is  the  one  which  most  resemble& 
New  York.  It  is  animated  and  flourishing,  one  feels  that  it 
is  young,  full  of  sap,  and  asks  nothing  better  than  to  enjoy 
life.  It  possesses  taste  and  enthusiasm,  I  think  of  a  higher 
standard  than  all  the  other  cities  in  this  section  of  country. 
What  I  also  prefer  in  it  is  that  it  is  exempt  from  that  pro- 
vincialism which  one  feels  the  more  in  proportion  as  one 
leaves  the  intellectual  focus  of  the  United  States. 

The  ladies  wear  here  beautiful  furs.  The  commerce  in 
furs  is  considerable.  They  come  by  land  from  the  Russian 
possessions  in  America.  The  ladies  who  always  possess  a 
fertile  inventive  genius  when  it  concerns  their  clothing, 
have  found  means  to  render  their  enormous  fur  bonnets 

fraceful,  in  which  they  muffle  themselves  this  winter, 
'hese  hats  remind  me  of  the  skin  cap  of  the  drum-major, 
but  flatter  and  terminating  in  a  kind  of  fox's  tail  which 
hangs  over  the  neck. 

The  stores  are  immense.  In  one  block  alone  I  counted 
five  fashionable  warehouses  which  are  each  five  stories  high 
and  employ  from  eighty  to  one  hundred  clerks.  The  small 
merchants  from  the  interior  of  the  territories  among  the 
Mormons  come  here  at  the  beginning  of  winter  to  make 
their  purchases. 

Milwaukee,  Wisconsin,  has  60,000  inhabitants,  splendid 
residences,  parks,  marble  fountains,  etc.  A  female  furrier 
paid  me  a  visit.     She  is  the  daughter  of  the  Comtesse  de 

.     On  learning  that  I  knew  the  Grande  Duchesse  Anne 

de  Russie  she  however  became  more  reserved,  and  I  thought 
she  was  afraid  that  I  might  discover  that  her  title,  of 
which  she  makes  here  a  great  display,  is  not  as  legitimate 

15* 


174  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

as  her  Alsatian  accent  which  she  in  vain  sought  to  conceal. 
It  is  remarkable  thjstt  almost  all  the  Russians  who  are  in 
America  are  Counts,  just  as  almost  all  the  musicians  who 
abound  in  the  United  States  are  nephews  of  Spohr  and 
Mendelssohn. 


CHAPTER  Vn. 


New  York,  December,  1862. 

I  HAVE  just  finished  (it  is  hardly  two  hours  since  I  have 
arrived  in  New  York)  my  last  tour  of  concerts  for  this  sea- 
son. I  have  given  eiffhty-five  concerts  in  four  months  and 
a  half.  I  have  travelled  fifteen  thousand  miles  on  the  rail- 
road. At  St.  Louis  I  gave  seven  concerts  in  six  days ;  at 
Chicago,  five  in  four  days.  A  few  weeks  more  in  this  way 
and  I  should  have  become  an  idiot!  EigTiteen  hours  a  day 
on  the  railroad!  Arrive  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
eat  with  all  speed,  appear  at  eight  o'clock  before  the  public. 
The  last  note  finished,  rush  quickly  for  my  luggage,  and 
en  route  until  next  day  to  recommence  always  the  same 
thing!  I  have  become  stupid  with  it.  I  have  the  appear- 
ance of  an  automaton  under  the  influence  of  a  voltaic  pile. 
My  fingers  move  on  the  keyboard  with  feverish  heat,  and 
for  the  moment  it  is  not  possible  for  me  to  hear  the  music, 
without  experiencing  something  of  the  sensation  of  that 
hero  of  Alexander  Dumas  Jils^  condemned  for  one  month 
to  eat  nothing  but  pigeon.  The  sight  of  a  piano  sets  my 
hair  on  end  like  the  victim'  in  presence  of  the  wheel  on 
which  he  is  about  to  be  tortured.  Whilst  my  fingers  are 
thus  moving,  my  thought  is  elsewhere.  Happier  than 
my  poor  machine,  it  traverses  the  field,  and  sees  again  those 
dear  Antilles,  where  I  gave  tranquilly  a  little  concert  every 
two  or  three  months  comfortably,  without  fatiguing  myself, 
where  I  slept  for  weeks  the  sleep  of  the  spirit,  so  delicious, 
so  poetical,  in  the  midst  of  the  voluptuous  and  enervating 
atmosphere  of  those  happy  lands  of  the  'Dolce  far  niente,' 
wjiose  lazy  breezes  murmuring  softly  bear  on  their  wings 
the  languid  and  distant  harmonies  of  the  country,  and  whose 


THE  CHARMING  YOUNG  GIRL.  175 

quiet  and  dreamv  birds  seem  never  to  arouse  from  the  con- 
templation of  all  the  marvels  of  this  terrestrial  paradise 
except  to  love  and  to  sleep.  What  an  awakening  for  me 
after  five  years  of  this  tropical  gypsy  life! 

"The  libertines  please  themselves  with  peopling  their 
paradise  with  a  crowd  of  imaginary  houris.  I  do  not 
imagine  mine  except  under  the  express  prohibition  of 
giving  a  concert  under  the  penalty  of  being  precipitated  into 
purgatory.  Bv  way  of  retaliation  hell  ought  to  be  the 
general  entrepot  for  all  the  harpsichords  little  and  great, 
past  and  future.     This  perspective  freezes  me  with  terror. 

I  have  taken  some  notes  during  the  long  hours  of  travel 
in  the  West.  They  are  written  en  courant,  and  I  shall 
have,  myself,  trouble  in  deciphering  them  from  the  leaves 
of  my  memorandum.  The  jolt  of  the  railroad  makes  my 
lead  pencil  describe  all  sorts  of  fantastic  figures;  there  are 
zi2:-zags,  hieroglyphics,  and  Gothic  cathedral  steeples. 

Por  some  time  I  had  wished  to  give  three  concerts  in 
one  day  (I  had  already  done  it  at  St.  Louis,  and  I  claim,  in 
default  of  other  merit,  to  be  the  first  pianist  who  has  ac- 
complished this  tour  deforce  in  America),  but  the  question 
was  of  three  concerts  echelonned  over  a  route  of  one  hun- 
dred miles.  Leaving  New  York  in  the  morning  I  arrived 
at  ISTewark,  a  matinee  announced  at  noon ;  had  there  com- 
plete success ;  at  one  and  a  half  o'clock  I  took  the  train 
for  Albany  where  a  second  concert  was  to  take  place  at 
half  past  four  o'clock;  the  third  was  to  be  at  Troy,  and 
was  not  to  commence  until  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening. 
So  far  everything  went  well,  "but  man  proposes  and  God 
disposes!"  I  had  in  the  car  for  neighbours  a  charming 
young  girl  and  her  mother,  both  hampered  with  boxes, 
umbrellas,  and  other  movable  utensils,  embarrassing,  invad- 
ing, calamitous,  without  which  no  female  having  any 
respect  for  herself  could  ornament  the  interior  of  a  car. 
They  stopped  at  Fishkill.  On  seeing  them  get  up  I  did 
as  much  under  the  influence  which  two  pretty  eyes  always 
exercise,  and  rushed  out,  my  heart  in  my  mouth,  my  right 
arm  gracefully  bent  (the  left  carried  a  cage  and  a  canary, 
another  feminine  article  which  I  had  forgotten  to  mention 
in  the  inventory  of  these  ladies  and  which  I  had  heroically 
seized),  I  offered  my  hand  to  them  to  descend.     Here,  my 


176  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

readers  may  interrupt  me  to  say  that  my  story  is  not 
amusing  and  has  nothing  extraordinary  in  it.  Wait  then! 
Qiie  diable  ! 

Wait!  alas!  it  is  just  what  the  locomotive  did  not  do. 
In  the  midst  of  the  courtesies  of  my  travelling  companioiis 
and  of  the  little  consecrated  cK)nversation  which  I  owed  to 
them,  felicitating  myself  on  the  happy  chance  that  .  .  . 
with  hope  that  .  .  .  and  a  thousand  other  pretty  things 
of  the  same  kind  like  knight  errants  who  meet  beautiful 
princesses,  the  whistle  was  blown,  the  conductor  had  cried 
'  all  aboard,'  and  I  only  came  to  myself  to  see  the  last  car 
of  my  train  disappear  behind  a  turn  in  the  road! 

Behold  me  upon  the  road  without  any  baggage  at  Fish- 
kill  station,  that  is  to  say  a  half  hour's  walk  from  any  habi- 
tation, and  with  a  concert  to  be  given  at  Albany  in  an 
hour!  "Frankly,"  you  say  to  me,  ".I  only  half  pity  you, 
you  still  have  the  two  princesses!"  The  two  princesses! 
Bitter  mockery !  One  of  them,  the  mother,  is  walking  with 
her  husband  who  has  come  down  to  meet  them  at  the 
station,  the  other,  the  daughter,  turns  her  back  to  me  and 
hanging  on  the  arm  of  a  handsome  fellow,  one  of  her  friends 
(whom  I  thought  frifijhtful),  gives  him  a  thousand  tender 
looks.  The  whole  of  them  jump  into  a  pretty  phaeton  (the 
young  man's,  without  doubt)  which  drives  oft*  rapidly, 
leaving  me  in  the  dust  under  a  sun  like  that  of  Arabia 
Petrea,  a  prey  to  the  horrors  of  being  left  alone,  and  given 
up  to  corroding  reflections  on  the  inconvenience  of  being 
too  susceptible.  I  swear  (a  drunkard's  oath)  I  will  never  be 
caught  again.  Don  Quixote  after  the  fight  with  the  wind- 
mill could  not  have  presented  a  sadder  figure.  Firmin,  I 
was  about  to  say  Sancho,  whose  life  passes  in  packing, 
unpacking,  and  repacking  my  trunks,  and  who  seems 
from  this  intimacy  to  have  contracted  a  tender  affection 
for  them,  thought  of  the  telegraph  oflice.  It  was  four 
o'clock.  The  hall  at  Albany  was  probably  full.  He  sent 
a  dispatch  to  Strakosch  commending  to  him  his  dear 
trunks  and  advising  him  of  the  accident.  I,  for  myself, 
recalled  to  mind  that  Church,  our  great  and  inimitable 
Church,  the  painter  of  Niagara,  of  the  Andes,  and  of  so  many 
other  beautiful  pictures,  had  many  times  spoken  to  me  of 
a  marvellous  property  which  he  had  purchased  on  the 
banks  of  the  Hudson  near  Fishkill.    A  little  lad  was  dis- 


MUSIC,  A  FASHIONABLE  LUXURY.  177 

covered  just  then  whose  father,  a  carpenter,  worked  for 
Church.  I  agam  took  courage,  and  giving  some  money 
to  the  boy,  made  him  conduct  me  to  Church's  residence, 
where  I  passed  a  charming  afternoon. 

There  is  a  class  of  individuals  for  whom  the  arts  are  only 
a  fashionable  luxury,  and  music,  in  particular,  an  agreeable 
noise  and  elegant  superfluity  that  agreeably  revives  at  a 
soiree  the  conversation  when  it  languishes,  and  commodi- 
ously  serves  to  fill  up  the  interval  that  separates  the  time 
for  lemonade  from  the  time  for  supper.  For  them  all  phi- 
losophical discussions  on  the  aesthetics  of  art,  are  no  more 
than  puerilities,  analogous  to  that  of  the  fairy  who  occu- 
pied herself  in  weighing  strains  of  dust  in  a  scale  of  spider's 
web:  The  artists  (to  whom,  through  a  prejudice  which 
goes  back  to  the  barbarism  of  the  Middle  Ages,  they  per- 
sist in  refusing  a  place  in  the  higher  sphere  of  social  order) 
are  for  them  only  merchants  of  the  lowest  rank  who  trade 
in  questionable  products,  the  most  of  the  time  awkwardly, 
since  they  rarely  make  a  fortune. 

Performers  are  for  them  moiintebanks  or  jugglers,  who 
ply  the  agilitv  of  their  hands,  like  dancers  or  acrobats 
that  of  their  legs.  The  painter,  whose  chefs-d^oeuvre  deco- 
rate the  wall  of  their  saloons,  figures  in  the  budget  of  their 
expenses  under  the  same  title  with  the  upholsterer  who 
has  covered  their  floor  with  a,nAubusson;  and  if  they  were 
left  to  themselves,  they  would  value  according  to  the  price 
of  the  canvas  and  the  oil,  the  'Heart  of  the  Andes,'  of 
Church,  or  the  'Le  Marcheaux  Chevaux'  of  Rosa  Bonheur. 
It  is  not  for  these,  who  are  disinherited  by  thought,  that  I 
write,  but  there  are  others,  and  it  is  to  those  that  I  address 
myself,  who  reco^ize  in  the  artist  the  privileged  instrument 
of  a  moral  and  civilizing  influence,  and  who  appreciate  art 
because  they  draw  from  it  pure  and  unspeakable  enjoy- 
ment ;  who  respect  it,  because  it  is  the  highest  expression 
of  human  thought  aspiring  towards  the  Eternal  Ideal, 
and  love  it  as  the  friend  into  whose  bosom  they  pour  their 
joys  and  their  griefs  to  find  there  a  fiiithful  echo  of  the 
emotions  of  their  soul. 

Lamertine  has  rightly  said,  "  La  mnsique  est  la  litt6rature 
du  coeur,  elle  commence  Ik  ou  finit  la  parole."  Indeed, 
music  is  a  psycho-physical  phenomenon.    It  is  in  its  essence 


178  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

a  sensation,  and  in  its  development  an  ideal.  It  suffices,  not 
to  be  deaf,  if  not  to  understand  at  least  to  perceive  music. 
Idiots  and  furious  maniacs  have  submitted  to  its  influence; 
not  being  confined  to  the  precise  and  restricted  meaning  of 
a  word,  and  expressing  only  the  status  of  the  soul,  music 
has  the  advantage  over  literature  that  every  one  can  assimi- 
late it  to  his  own  passions,  and  adapt  it  to  the  sentiments 
which  dominate  him.  Its  power,  limited,  in  the  intellectual 
order  of  things,  to  the  imitative  passions,  is  illimitable  in 
that  of  the  imagination.  It  answers  to  that  innate,  unde- 
finable  feeling  which  every  one  possesses,  the  Ideal.  Litera- 
ture is  always  objective ;  it  speaks  to  our  understanding,  and 
determines  in  us  impressions  in  harmony  with  the  limited 
sense  which  it  expresses.  Music,  on  the  contrary,  is 'per- 
haps by  turns  objective  and  subjective,  depending  on  our 
state  of  mind  at  the  time  we  hear  it.  It  is  objective  when, 
under  the  wholly  physical  sensation  of  sound,  we  listen 
passively,  and  it  suggests  to  us  impressions.  A  warlike 
march,  a  waltz,  the  flute's  imitation  of  a  nightingale,  the 
chromatic  scales  imitating  the  murmuring  of  the  wind  in  the 
*  pastoral  symphony,'  are  examples  of  it.  It  is  subjective 
when,  under  the  influence  of  a  secret  impression,  we  discover 
in  its  general  character  an  agreement  with  our  psychical 
state  and  assimilate  it.  It  is  then  like  a  mirror  in  which 
we  see  reflected  the  emotions  which  agitate  us  with  a  fidelity 
so  much  the  more  exact  as  we  ourselves  without  being 
aware  of  it  are  the  painters  of  the  picture  which  is  unfolded 
before  the  eyes  of  our  imagination.  I  will  explain  myself: 
Play  a  melancholy  passage  to  an  exile  thinking  on  his  dis- 
tant countrv,  to  an  abandoned  lover,  to  a  mother  mourning 
for  her  child,  to  a  conquered  warrior,  and  be  assured  that 
each  one  of  these  various  griefs  will  appropriate  to  itself 
these  plaintive  harmonies,  and  will  recognize  in  them  the 
voice  of  its  own  suftering. 

Music  in  itself  is  stiu  a  mystery ;  we  know  that  it  is 
composed  of  three  principles:  the  air,  vibration,  and 
rhythmical  symmetry.  Strike  an  object  under  the  ex- 
hausted receiver  of  an  air-pump — there  is  no  sound,  because 
there  is  no  air  there ;  touch  a  resounding  glass — it  becomes 
silent,  because  you  have  arrested  the  vibration.  Take 
away  the  rhythm  of  the  simplest  air  by  changing  the 


A  PHYSICAL  AGENT.  179 

duration  of  each  of  the  notes  which  compose  it — ^you  will 
render  it  unrecognizable  and  obscure,  because  you  have 
destroyed  its  symmetry. 

But  why,  then,  do  not  several  hammers  striking  in  cadence 
make  music  ?  They  nevertheless  possess  air,  vibration,  and 
rhythm.  Why  does  the  accord  of  a  third  tickle  the  ear  so 
agreeably?  Why  is  the  minor  mode  suggestive  of  sadness? 
There  is  the  mystery ;  there  the  inexplicable  phenomenon. 
We  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  music,  which,  like  speech, 
is  perceived  through  the  medium  of  the  ear,  does  not,  like 
the  latter,  call  upon  the  brain  for  an  explanation  of  the 
sensation  produced  by  the  vibration  of  the  nerves ;  it 
addresses  itself  to  a  mysterious  agent  within  us  which  is 
superior  to  the  intelligence,  since  it  is  independent  of  it, 
and  makes  us  feel  that  which  it  can  neither  conceive  nor 
explain.  Let  us  examine  the  different  attributes  of  musical 
phenomena. 

1.  Music  is  a  physical  agent;  it  impresses  on  the  body 
shocks  which  shake  the  organs  to  their  base.  In  churches 
the  flame  of  the  candles  oscillates  to  the  murmurings  of 
the  organ.  A  powerful  orchestra  near  a  sheet  of  water 
ruffles  its  surface.  A  learned  traveller  speaks  of  an  iron 
ring  which  swings  to  the  murmur  of  the  falls  of  Tivoli. 
In  Switzerland,  i  excited  at  will — in  a  poor  child  afflicted 
with  a  frightful  nervous  malady,  hysterical  and  cataleptical 
crises — ^by  playing  in  the  minor  key  of  E  flat.  The  learned 
Doctor  Bertier  asserted  that  the  sound  of  the  drum  gave 
him  the  colic.  The  sound  of  the  trumpet,  some  physicians 
assert,  quickens  the  pulse  and  excites,  although  most  insen- 
sibly, perspiration.  The  sound  of  the  bassoon  is  cold ;  that 
of  the  French  horn  at  a  distance,  and  the  remote  harmonies 
of  the  harp  are  voluptuous.  The  flute,  played  softly  in  the 
middle  register,  calms  the  nerves.  The  low  notes  of  the 
piano  frighten  little  children.  I  had  a  dog  who  would 
.sleep  on  bearing  music,  but  as  soon  as  I  played  in  the 
minor  key  would  howl  piteously.  The  dog  of  a  cele- 
brated singer,  whom  I  knew,  would  moan  Bitterly,  and 
give  signs  of  violent  suffering,  when  his  mistress  sang  a 
chromatic  scale.  A  certain  chord  produces  on  my  nerve  of 
hearing  a  sensation  analogous  to  that  which  the  heliotrope 


180  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

produces  on  my  sense  of  smell  and  the  pineapple  on  my 
sense  of  taste.  Eachel's  voice  charmed  by  its  ring  before 
one  had  time  to  seize  the  sense  of  the  phrase  or  to  appre- 
ciate the  purity  of  her  diction. 

We  can  affirm,  then,  that  musical  sound,  rhythmical  or 
not  rhythmical,  influences  our  whole  economy:  quickens 
the  pulse,  slightly  excites  perspiration,  and  produces  a 
species  of  voluptuous  and  transient  irritation  in  our  nervous 
system. 

2.  Music  is  a  moral  agent  Through  the  medium  of  the 
nervous  system  it  brings  into  play  the  superior  faculties  ; 
its  language  is  that  of  sentiment.  Moreover,  the  ideas 
which  have  presided  over  the  combinations  of  musical  art 
establish  relations  between  its  composers  and  the  soul.  We 
sigh  with  Bellini  in  the  finale  of  '  La  Sonnambula ;'  we 
shudder  with  Weber  in  the  sublime  phantasmagoria  of 
'  Der  Freischutz.'  The  mystical  inspirations  of  Palestrina, 
the  masses  of  Mozart,  transport  us  into  the  celestial  regions 
towards  which  they  rise  like  melodious  incense. 

Music  awakens  in  us  reminiscences,  memories,  associa- 
tions. A  celebrated  pianist,  a  friend  of  mine,  related  to 
me  that  he  knew  in  a  city  where  he  was  giving  concerts  a 
charming  young  girl.  He  was  twenty  years  old,  with  all 
the  poetic  illusions  of  this  romantic  age ;  she  was  sixteen. 
They  loved  each  other  without  daring  to  confess  it,  and 
perhaps  without  knowing  it  themselves.  *  But  the  moment 
for  parting  came.  He  was  passing  his  last  evening  at  her 
house.  Watched  by  the  family,  he  could  scarcely  shake 
hands  with  her  stealthily  at  the  moment  of  bidding  her 
adieu.  Alas!  the  poem  begun  was  arrested  at  its  first 
page ;  he  never  saw  her  again ! 

Disheartened,  frantic  with  grief,  after  having  wandered 
at  random  through  the  dark  streets,  he  found  himself  again 
without  knowing  how,  under  her  window,  at  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  She  was  also  awake.  Their  thoughts,, 
united  by  that  divine  tie  which  merits  the  name  of  love  only 
in  the  morning  of  life,  had  met  together,  for  she  was  play- 
ing softly  in  the  solitude  of  her  chamber  the  first  notes  of 
a  mazourka  which  they  had  danced  together.  "My  tears 
flowed,"  said  he  to  me, "  on  hearing  this  music,  which  seemed 


EFFECTS  OF  MUSIC.  181 

to  me  sublime.  It  was  the  stifled  plaint  of  her  heart ;  it 
was  her  grief  which  was  exhaling  from  her  fingers ;  it  was 
the  eternal  farewell !" 

"For  j^ears  I  thought  this  mazourka  was  a  marvellous 
musical  inspiration,  and  it  was  not  until  a  long  time  after- 
wards, when  age  had  dispelled  my  illusions  ana  effaced  the 
adored  image,  that  I  discovered  that  it  was  only  a  vulgar, 
common  composition.  The  gold  had  been  transmuted  into 
bra^s." 

The  old  man,  chilled  by  age,  may  remain  insensible  to 
the  pathetic  accents  of  Mozart  and  Rossini.  Repeat  to  him 
the  simple  and  artless  song  of  his  youth ;  the  present  van- 
ishes and  the  illusions  of  the  past  return. 

I  was  acquainted  with  an  old  Spanish  general  who  hated 
music.  One  day  I  took  it  into  my  head  to  play  to  him  my 
'Si^ge  de  Saragosse,'  in  which  I  introduce  *La  Marcha 
Rear  (the  national  hymn).  He  commenced  crying  like  an 
infant ;  this  air  recalled  to  him  the  immortal  defence  of  the 
heroic  city,  behind  whose  fallen  walls  he  had  fought  the 
French,  and  sounded,  he  said,  like  the  voice  of  all  the  holy 
aflfections  which  constitute  *  home.' 

The  mercenary  Swiss  troops  formerly  in  France  and  Na- 
ples could  not  hear,  without  being  aflfected,  the  '  Ranz  des 
Vaches,'  that  air  of  old  and  rude  Helvetia,  when  from 
mountain  to  mountain  the  signal  of  revolt  summoned  the 
three  insurgent  cantons  to  the  cause  of  independence.  The 
desertions  caused  by  this  air  became  so  frequent  that  the 
government  had  to  prohibit  it. 

The  comical  eflfect  may  be  remembered,  produced  on  the 
French  troops  in  the  Crimea,  by  the  Highlanders  marching 
to  battle  with  the  bag-pipe,  whose  sharp  and  discordant 
sounds  inflamed  these  brave  mountaineers  with  warlike 
ardor  by  recalling  to  them  their  country  and  its  heroic 
legends. 

x^'apoleon  III.  finds  himself  obliged  to  allow  the  Arabs, 
the  Spahis  and  Tiircos^  whom  he  has  incorporated  with  his 
army,  their  barbarous  music  of  fiutes  and  tam-tams,  un- 
der the  penalty  of  seeing  them  revolt.  The  tam-tam  enables 
these  soldiers  to  make  marches  under  which,  without  this 
powerful  auxiliary,  their  strength  would  succumb. 

Play  to  a  Creole  of  the  Antilles  one  of  his  dances,  with 
16 


182  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

its  quaint  rhythm,  its  plaintive  and  dreamy  melody,  and 
immediately  you  will  see  him  filled  with  enthusiasm. 

The  '  Marseillaise'  contributed  as  much  to  the  republican 
victories  of  1793  against  the  invaders  of  France  as  the 
genius  of  Dumouriez. 

8.  Music  is  a  complex  agent  It  acts  at  the  same  time 
on  life,  its  forces,  its  instinct,  its  organism ;  it  has  a  psycho- 
logical action.  The  negroes  charm  snakes  by  whistling  to 
them.  It  is  said  that  fawns  permit  themselves  to  be  cap- 
tured by  a  pretty  voice ;  the  pipe  tames  bears ;  canaries 
and  sparrows  love  the  flageolet ;  m  the  Antilles  and  South 
America  lizards  are  hunted  with  the  whistle ;  spiders  have 
been  seen  not  to  leave  a  fiddler.  In  Switzerland  the  shep- 
herds hang  to  the  neck  of  their  finest  cows  a  large  bell,  of 
which  they  are  so  proud  that  they  march  at  the  head  of 
the  drove  as  long  as  they  are  permitted  to  wear  it ;  they 
have  been  seen  to  refuse  their  pasture  and  to  die  after  it 
has  been  taken  away  from  them.  In  Andalusia  the  mules 
lose  their  ardour  and  their  power  of  endurance  if  their  imiu- 
merable  bells  with  which  these  intelligent  animals  are  ac- 
customed to  be  adorned  are  taken  off  of  them.  In  the 
mountains  of  Scotland  and  Switzerland,  the  flocks  pasture 
best  to  the  sound  of  the  bag-pipe ;  and  in  the  Oberland,  the 
stray  cows  in  the  mountains  rejoin  their  keeper  at  the  sound 
of  the  horn. 

Donizetti,  a  year  before  his  death,  had  become  imbecile, 
owing  to  a  softening  of  the  spinal  marrow.  They  endeav- 
oured by  every  means  to  revive  a  spark  of  that  intellect  once 
so  vigorous.  All  of  the  doctors  were  baffled.  Once  he 
seemed  to  recover  a  gleam  of  intelligence,  and  this  was  on 
hearing  one  of  his  friends  play  to  him  the  septuor  of  his 
opera, '  La  Lucia.'  "  Poor  Donizetti,"  he  exclaimed,  ''what 
a  pity  that  he  died  so  soon .'"  and  this  was  all. 

In  1848,  after  the  horrible  battles  of  the  Insurrection, 
which  had  made  of  Paris  an  immense  field  of  carnage,  I 
hastened  to  conceal  my  sadness  and  my  disgust  at  the  house 
of  one  of  my  friends  who  superintended  the  immense  insane 
asylum  at  Clermont-sur-oise.  He  had  a  small  organ,  and 
sang  pretty  well.  I  composed  a  mass,  and  we  invited  a  few 
artists  of  Paris  and  also  some  of  the  most  docile  patients  of 


MUSIC  AND  THE  INSANE.  188 

the  asylum  to  hear  it.  I  was  struck  with  the  bearing  of 
the  latter,  and  I  induced  my  friend  to  repeat  the  experi- 
ment, and  extend  the  number  of  the  invitations.  The 
result  was  so  favourable  that  we  were  soon  able  to  form 
in  the  chapel  a  choir  of  the  insane  of  both  sexes,  who 
rehearsed  on  Saturday  the  hymns  and  chants  which  they 
were  to  sing  at  mass  on  Sunday.  A  raving  lunatic,  a 
priest,  who  became  more  intractable  from  day  to  day,  and 
to  whom  the  strait-jacket  was  very  often  applied,  noticed 
the  periodical  absence  of  some  of  his  companions,  and  mani- 
fested some  curiositjr  to  know  what  they  were  doing.  We 
admitted  him  once  into  the  chapel  ;*he  listened  to  the  sa- 
cred music,  and  he  appeared  interested  in  it.  The  follow- 
ing Saturday,  on  seeing  his  fellow  patients  prepared  to  go 
to  the  rehearsal,  he  expressed  the  desire  to  accompany 
them.  The  doctor  told  him  that  he  would  permit  him  to 
go,  provided  he  would  suffer  himself  to  be  shaved  and  de- 
cently dressed.  This  was  the  thorny  point,  for  he  was  never 
willing  to  wash  himself,  and  became  furious  when  he  was 
required  to  dress.  But  to  our  great  astonishment  he  quietly 
consented.  Not  only  this  time  did  he  listen  quietly  to  the 
music,  but  we  further  discovered  him  frequently  endeavour- 
ing to  join  his  voice  to  that  of  the  choir.  When  I  left 
Clermont,  my  poor  old  priest  had  become  one  of  the  most 
assiduous  at  the  rehearsals.  He  had  still  fits  of  raving 
madness,  but  they  were  less  frequent,  and  he  was  seen  when 
Sunday  came  dressing  himself  neatly  and  impatiently  awaits 
ing  the  hour  for  going  to  chapel. 

I  will  sum  up :  Music  being  a  physical  agent — ^that  is  to 
say,  acting  on  the  individual  without  the  assistance  of  his 
intellect — a  moral  agent — that  is  to  say,  reviving  his  mem- 
ory, exciting  his  imagination,  developing  his  sentiment — 
and  a  complex  agent — that  is  to  say,  having  a  psychological 
action  upon  the  instinct,  the  organism,  and  the  forces  of 
man — I  thence  conclude  that  it  is  one  of  the  most  powerful 
means  of  ameliorating  and  ennobling  the  human  mind,  of 
elevating  the  morals,  and,  above  all,  of  refining  the  man- 
ners of  the  people. 

The  truth  is  now  so  recognized  in  Europe  that  we  see 
there  the  Orpheons,  or  popular  musical  societies,  increasing 
as  if  by  enchantment  under  the  powerful  imDulse  which 


184  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

the  government  gives  them.  I  do  not  speak,  for  in- 
stance, of  Germany,  where  all  sing,  and  whose  indus- 
trious, peaceful,  and  intelligent  people  have  always  asso- 
ciated choral  music  with  its  labours  and  its  festivals.  But 
I  will  more  particularly  mention  France,  which  to-day  has 
more  than  eight  hundred  Orpheons,  composed  of  working- 
men.  How  many  of  these  latter,  who  passed  at  the  cabaret 
their  moments  of  leisure  in  drinking,  now  find  a  pleasant 
recreation  in  these  re-unions  where  tne  spirit  of  association 
and  of  fraternity  is  engendered  and  developed;  and,  if  we 
could  get  a  comparative  statistic  of  crimes,  without  doubt 
it  would  be  discovered  that  they  have  diminished  in  pro- 
portion as  musical  societies  have  increased.  In  fact,  you 
are  better ;  your  heart  is  in  some  way  purified  when  it  is 
strongly  impregnated  with  the  noble  harmonies  of  a  fine 
chorus ;  and  it  becomes  difficult  not  to  trust  as  a  brother 
him  whose  voice  is  blended  with  your  own,  and  whose 
heart  is  united  with  yours  in  a  community  of  pure  and 
joyful  emotions. 

If  Orpheons  are  ever  established  in  America,  be  assured 
that  the  '  bar-rooms' — ^the  scourge  of  the  country — ^and  re- 
volvers will  cease  to  be  national  institutions. 

January,  1863. 

I  have  been  confined  to  my  bed  for  four  days  by  a  severe 
attack  of  neuralgia  in  one  eye  and  one  side  of  my  head.  I 
have  suffered  very  much,  but,  thanks  to  the  attention  of 
Dr.  Smith,  the  most  amiable  companion  that  a  sick  man 
could  desire,  and  to  the  attentions  of  all  connected  with  the 
Tremont  House,  the  best  hotel  I  know  of  (with  the  '  Con- 
tinental' at  Philadelphia),  I  am  greatly  better,  and  hope  in 
a  few  days  from  this  to  recommence  my  '  concertizing' 
peregrinations.  I  was  alone  in  my  room  when  a  moment 
ago  a  friend  brought  me  a  journal  of  last  month  containing 
a  letter  from  a  lady  in  Indianapolis  on  my  concert  in  that 
city.  It  is  7  o'clock,  New- Year's  Day !  Magical  epoch, 
which,  when  we  are  children,  excites  in  us  a  glow  of  inde- 
scribable felicity,  and  which,  as  we  become  old,  brings  with 
it  only  the  remembrance  of  lost  happiness.  I.  was  recalling 
to  myself  family  joys,  and  was  measuring  the  extent  of 
what  we  all  lose  as  we  advance  in  life.    Each  of  these 


LA  BERCEUSE,  185 

periodical  festivals  is  like  a  milestone  on  the  pathway  of 
existence.  We  stop  a  moment  to  cast  a  look  behind ;  we 
count  the  void  spaces  which  have  been  made  around  us, 
and,  what  is  saddest  still,  those  which  have  been  made  in 
ourselves.  What  ruined  illusions!  what  noble  emotions 
extinguished!  what  friendships  (which  in  the  generous 
impulsions  of  youth  we  thought  eternal)  we  look  back 
upon !  Our  heart  contracts,  and  we  understand  that  hap- 
pmess  is  no  longer  in  the  future,  but  in  the  past,  and  we 
have  let  it  escape  us  without  knowing  it. 

These  impressions  which  we  all  experience  are  perhaps 
more  lively  m  me,  the  kind  of  life  to  which  I  am  condemned 
causing  me  to  dwell  on  them  more.  To  be  always  only  a 
musical  abstraction,  not  to  have  the  right  of  applying  any 
of  the  sympathies  accorded  to  the  artist  to  the  individual, 
to  be  inclosed  within  the  walls  of  the  concert  room  without 
the  power  of  acquiring  any  of  those  strong  affections  which 
ought  (whether  right  or  wrong),  independent  of  that  pres- 
tige which  celebrity  bestows,  to  belong  to  all,  and  to  no  one 
in  particular,  to  be  a  public  thing  which  the  first  comer 
manipulates  as  he  pleases,  such  is  the  sad  reverse  of  the 
brilliant  (?)  career  to  which  I  am  condemned.  It  was  under 
the  influence  of  these  thoughts  that  I  commenced  the  arti- 
cle from  Indianapolis  which  my  friend  sent  me. 

Let  me,  first  of  all,  describe  the  pleasure  that  it  gave 
me.  I  have  often  received  praise  in  the  course  of  my  artist 
life  (and  who  has  not?  I  say  this  that  it  may  be  under- 
stood that  I  am  not  convinced  that  I  have  merited  it), 
but  I  do  not  think  that  I  ever  received  anything  that  has 
so  delightfully  affected  me.    Had  I  obtained  only  the  ap- 

{)robation  of  this  mother,  I  should  think  that  I  had  not 
ost  my  time  in  writing  'la  Berceuse'  ('cradle  song').  Al- 
though I  have  not  yet  arrived  to  the  dignity  of  marriage, 
my  love  for  children  makes  me  understand  by  intuition  the 
whole  of  that  holy  poetry  which  surrounds  the  cradle. 
Again  I  repeat  it,  no  praise  in  my  life  has  so  much  touched 
me  as  that  of  this  mother  recognizing  in  my  poor,  little 
composition,  humble  as  it  is,  a  reflection  of  ner  affection 
for  her  little  infant,  when  hanging  over  its  cradle  she  re- 
called to  her^lf  'la  Berceuse'  whidi  she  had  just  heard  at 
my  concert. 

16* 


186  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

"  The  cradle  song — ^is  it  not  a  mother's  heart  set  to  music? 
Bending  over  my  own  little  sleeping  one,  now,  on  coming 
home,  I  felt  like  blessing  him  who  has  thus  given  melodi- 
ous utterance  to  the  holiest  of  human  feelings — a  mother's 
love.  A  good  man  must  he  be — the  composer  of  the  *  Ber- 
ceuse.'" (Indianapolis  correspondent  of  the  'Home  Jour- 
nal,' signed  "Mrs.  Frank  Smith.") 

Music,  you  know,  is  a  mirror  in  which,  according  to  our 
mood,  we  see  a  reflection  of  the  images  which  engage  us 
most.  It  is  a  sketch  which  we  colour  with  our  own  domi- 
nant passions.  Its  language  being  comparatively  undefined, 
it  has  the  advantage  over  written  poetry ;  of  imposing  no 
boundaries  upon  the  hearer's  thought ;  of  opening  infinite 
spaces  wherein  his  soul  may  spread  its  wings  to  rove  un- 
manacled.  Thus,  a  sweet  and  plaintive  melody,  heard  by  a 
mother  who  has  lost  her  babe,  a  lover  who  bewails  his  mis- 
tress, an  exile  who  dreams  of  his  far  native  land,  to  each  of 
these  sorrowing  hearts  will  appear  the  echo  of  its  own  proper 
grief,  and  the  reflection  of  its  musings. 

I  was  led  to  compose  the  '  Berceuse'  by  memories  of  a 
younger  sister  of  mine,  dearly  loved  and  brought  up  by  me, 
whom  I  cradled  in  my  arms  during  her  infancy  through  a 
painful  illness  which  threatened  to  take  her  away  from  us. 
Finalljr,  thank  God,  she  triumphed  over  it.  I  imagined  her 
lying  m  her  cradle  as  of  old,  and  at  the  thought  of  losing 
her,  all  my  youthful  emotions,  all  my  aftections,  ripened  by 
age  and  strengthened  by  absence,  sprung  up  afresh  to  be 
condensed  into  this  little  morceau^  which,  despite  its  trifling 
artistic  value,  I  dearly  love,  because  it  recalls  to  me  a  great 
sorrow  once  spared  my  heart. 


CHAPTER  Vm/ 

Springfield,  niinois,  January  8,  1863. 

St.  Nicholas  Hotel  ( ! ! ! !)  Each  one  of  these  exclama- 
tion points,  if  they  could  speak,  would  tell  you  a  story  of 
tribulations,  of  all  kinds  of  mortifications  which  should 


SPRINGFIELD,  ILLINOIS.  187 

render  the  St.  Mcholas  Hotel,  Springfield,  forever  cele- 
brated !  First,  the  Legislature  being  in  session,  the  house 
is  full,  which  is  the  same  as  saying  that  the  beefsteaks  are 
leathery,  the  eggs  too  hard.  Let  him  explain  who  can 
the  ajSinity  whicn  exists  between  victuals  and  a  crowd,  and 
what  makes  one  the  consequence  of  the  other ;  but  such  is 
the  fact.  I  have  bitterly  realized  it  at  the  Burnett  House 
in  Cincinnati.  One  of  my  agents  had  to  share  his  chamber 
with  three  persons.  One  stole  his  gold  watch,  his  chain, 
and  his  frock  coat.  We  are  cooped  up,  six  of  us,  in  a  little 
room  hardly  large  enough  to  hold  one  bed  comfortably. 
The  water  to  wash  with  is  as  black  as  ink.  The  proprietor 
charges  us  for  a  supper  which  we  have  not  eaten,  and  upon 
a  timid  observation  which  we  make  respecting  it,  looks  at 
us  as  if  he  wished  to  crush  us,  and  addressing  the  porter 
throws  out  this  memorable  phrase,  which  seemed  to  me  not 
to  speak  very  highly  in  favour  of  the  honesty  of  the  travel- 
lers with  whom  ne  is  in  the  habit  of  dealing:  "Billy,  take 
care  that  the  trunks  are  not  taken  away  before  the  bills  are 
paidr 

0  excellent  Lincoln,  Springfield  has  been  your  home,  but 
that  does  not  increase  my  admiration  for  its  inhabitants! 

March  5. 

Given  my  first  concert  at  Washington — ^great  success. 
Audience  variegated !  diplomats,  generals,  etc.  In  the  first 
row  I  recognized  General  Herron,  my  old  friend  from  New 
Granada.  The  porch  of  the  hotel  is  always  crowded. 
There  are  some  thousands  of  soldiers,  uniforms  of  every 
nation,  German,  French,  Polish,  Austrian,  Croats,  etc.  I 
particularly  remark  a  regiment  from  the  west,  I  think, 
whose  shakos,  a  sort  of  monument,  which  has  behind  the 
appearance  of  a  Tyrolese  hat,  and  before  is  ornamented  with  a 
visor,  is  surmounted  instead  of  a  plume  with  a  squirrel's  tail, 
which  twists  around  the  felt  crown  and  covers  over  the  top. 
This  crowd,  these  diverse  uniforms,  these  different  idioms, 
which  mingle  in  every  way,  remind  me  of  a  scene  in  Schil- 
ler's '  Wallenstein.' 

After  the  concert,  a  squint-eyed  gentleman  requested  me, 
with  a  mysterious  air,  to  grant  him  an  interview  for  ten 
minutes  to-morrow.    He  has  come !  I  thought  it  was  for 


188  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST, 

the  purpose  of  bleeding  my  purse,  I  am  so  accustomed  to 
it.  The  number  of  fathers  out  of  work,  of  orphans  of 
tender  age,  and  of  widows  without  support  is  invariably 
singularly  developed  the  morning  after  a  concert,  and  my 
lodgings  are  generally  overrun ;  but  my  squint-eyed  pro- 
fessor 18  simply  only  a  professor  of  physiology  at  the  Uni- 
versitv.  He  has  remarked,  he  said,  that  1  played  more 
quickly  than  any  other,  and  as  he  has  seen  that  one  of  his 
confraternity,  in  a  book  just  published,  has  affirmed  that 
the  number  of  percussions  given  by  the  human  nerves  could 
not  transcend  more  than  twenty-five  in  a  second  he  should 
be  happy  to  prove  the  falsity  of  his  rival's  assertion.  He 
dared  to  hope  that  I  would  confirm  his  observations.  He 
gave  me  a  long  dissertation,  and  repeated  to  me  that  he  was 
nappy  to  have  known  the  pianist  who  could  make  more 
than  twenty-five  percusssions  in  a  second. 

0  Art !  where  art  thou  ?  I  took  enormous  proportions  in 
his  eyes  by  telling  him  that  I  play  the  'mouvement  perpetuel' 
of  Weber  in  less  than  two  minutes.  What  would  you  wish 
me  to  have  said  to  this  ignoramus  ?  Could  I  resolve  to 
descend  from  the  pedestal  on  which  he  had  placed  me  ? 
Here  I  am  then  definitely  classed  scientifically  by  this  squint- 
eyed  gentleman  among  the  most  powerful  known  motors. 

Third  concert  to-morrow,  the  8th  March.  Second,  this 
evening,  the  7th.  To-morrow  I  shall  go  to  General  Wads- 
worth's  camp.  Two  young  cavalry  majors  are  to  send  us 
horses,  the  roads  being  so  broken  that  it  will  be  difficult, 
even  with  our  hackneys,  to  get  to  the  camp,  which  is  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Potomac.  The  government  has  done  us 
the  favour  of  sending  us  a  safe-conduct.  Mr.  Seward,  the 
Secretary  of  State,  desires  to  see  me,  not  as  an  artist  only, 
but  as  a  Louisianian  remaining  faithful  to  the  Constitution. 

The  day  before  yesterday  uie  house  of  Baron  Mercier, 
the  French  Minister,  was  burnt.  All  the  furniture  and  the 
wardrobe  of  Mr.  and  Madam  were  lost  to  that  extent  that 
Madam,  the  Baroness,  had  to  borrow  stockings  from 
Madam  Eigo.  Interesting  details !  The  city  has  the 
appearance  of  having  been  just  taken  by  assault.  Military 
everywhere.    Soldiers  on  every  side.    An  immense  crowd. 

1  have  solemnly  taken  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the 
government  at  Washington.     My  horror  of  slavery  made 


HORROR  OF  SLAVERY.  189 

me  emancipate,  ten  years  since,  three  slaves  that  belonged 
to  me.  Although  bom  in  the  South,  I  recognize  but  one 
principle — that  of  the  Constitution.  In  a  republic  where 
universal  suffrage  is  not  a  chimera,  where  the  citizens  are 
free  and  intelligent  men  and  not  servile  machines,  where 
the  ambitious  never  separate  their  personal  glory  from  that 
of  their  country,  no  honest  and  republican  conscience 
ought  to  feel  embarrassed.  What  timorous  minds  find  in 
the  Catholic  dogma  regarding  doubtful  points,  I  find 
blindly  in  politics.  I  bow  down  before  that  interpretation 
made  by  the  supreme  authority  with  so  much  the  more 
facility  as  having  the  conviction  that  those  who  rule  the 
destinies  of  the  country  are  truly  the  legitimate  expression 
of  the  will  of  the  greatest  number,  and  I  know  that  thus  I 
fulfil  the  fundamental  duties  of  the  republican  system. 
Besides  the  South — whose  courage  and  heroism  I  honour, 
whilst  deploring  the  blindness  which  has  precipitated  them 
into  a  war  without  issue — ^the  South  leans  upon  two 
political  errors.  In  the  nineteenth  century  nationalities 
are  no  longer  broken — ^the  general  movement  tends  to 
unification.  No  one  fraction  of  the  people  has  the  right  to 
reclaim  its  autonomy,  if  it  does  not  carry  with  it  greater 
guarantees  of  progress  and  civilization  than  that  of  the  major- 
ity who  is  enslaving  it.  But  the  South  in  wishing  to  destroy 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  political  monuments  of  modem 
times — ^the  American  Union — carries  with  it  only  slavery. 
It  is,  indeed,  unbecoming  my  fellow-citizens  of  the  South  to 
ask  for  the  liberty  of  reclaiming  their  independence,  when 
this  independence  is  only  to  be  made  use  of  for  the  conser- 
vation of  the  most  odious  of  abuses  and  the  most  flagrant 
outrage  upon  liberty.  I  do  not  have  any  illusions  regard- 
ing the  negro.  I  believe  him  very  inferior  morally  to  the 
white.    Ino  race  so  maltreated  as  this  has  been  by  chance 

could  have  remained  as .    (Remaining  part  not 

found.) 

Alexandria,  April  27. 

I  have  for  a  long  time  desired  to  see  this  little  city  on 
the  northern  boundary  of  Virginia,  therefore  I  came  here 
from  Washington.  This  city  has  played  a  very  important 
part  in  the  war — occupied  by  turns  by  the  Federalists  and 


190  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

the  Confederates,  and  finally  becoming  the  general  quarters 
of  the  first — that  I  experienced  on  going  there  a  little  of 
that  indefinable  sentiment  which  seizes  us  when  we  find 
ourselves  on  an  old  field  of  battle,  and  in  our  thoughts 
represent  to  ourselves  the  great  victory  of  which  it  has 
been  the  theatre.  Besides,  every  inch  of  Virginian  soil  is 
American,  for  we  find  on  it  everywhere  the  footsteps  of 
Washington. 

We  put  up  at  the  *  Marshall  House  Hotel,'  almost  en- 
tirely occupied  by  officers.  The  garrison  of  Alexandria 
amounts  to  from  thirty  to  forty  thousand  men.  The  gene- 
ral hospital  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  has  been  estab- 
lished at  Alexandria,  therefore  we  meet  invalids  at  every 
step.  The  sight  of  a  mutilated  soldier  is  always  a  sad 
spectacle ;  here  it  is  heart-rending ;  almost  all  those  whom 
I  meet  being  young  men — some  almost  children.  The 
*  Marshall  House'  is  celebrated  in  the  annals  of  actual  war. 
It  was  here  that  Colonel  Ellsworth,  a  young  hero  of  nine- 
teen years  of  age,  was  killed.  This  Ellsworth,  a  new 
Charles  XII.,  from  his  birth  dreamed  only  of  wars  and 
combats.  Love,  it  is  asserted,  had  never  knocked  at  his 
heart,  and  he  died,  it  is  again  asserted,  a  virgin. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


As  in  the  past,  I  continue  to  be  whirled  in  space.  This 
agitated  life  is  a  distressing  monotony.  The  Chartreux 
themselves  have  not  a  rule  more  unpitiable  and  of  more 
unchangeable  rigidity  than  that  to  which  my  destiny  sub- 
mits me.  Pianistomonambulist !  Everything  is  foreseen, 
everything  is  marked,  everything  is  regulated  in  my 
peregrinations.  Thanks  to  the  experience  of  my  agent,  I 
Know  in  advance,  within  a  few  dollars,  the  amount  of  the 
receipts  in  a  town  of  a  given  number  of  inhabitants.  I 
know,  with  my  eyes  shut,  every  one  of  the  inextricable 
cross-threads  that  form  the  network  of  the  railroads  with 
which  K'ew  England  is  covered.     The  railroad  conductors 


THE  PUBLIC.  191 

Balute  me  familiarly  as  one  of  the  employes.  The  young 
girls  at  the  refreshment-room  of  the  station,  where  five 
minutes  are  given,  select  for  me  the  best  cut  of  ham,  and 
sugar  my  tea  with  the  obliging  smile  that  all  well-taught 
tradespeople  owe  to  their  customers.  At  8  o'clock  I  salute 
in  my  black  suit  my  audience,  and  give  them  'II  Trovatore.' 
At  a  quarter  to  nine  they  encore  the  'Murmures  Eoliens/ 
At  half-past  nine  they  call  again  for  '  La  Berceuse,'  in  the 
midst  of  the  enthusiasm  of  some  young  romantic  virgins, 
and  some  papas  slightly  inclined  in  a  semi-conscious  state 
to  sleep,  who  find  the  piece  full  of  agreeable  eflfects.  At  ten 
o'clock  I  carry  oft'  my  patriotic  audience  to  the  belligerent 
accents  of '  The  Union'  fantasia ;  and  at  half-past  ten  I  throw 
myself,  exhausted  and  depoetized,  into  the  prosaic  arms  of 
the  blessed  Morpheus,  whom  I  should  be  tempted  to  canonize 
if  I  were  Pope,  and  if  the  good  man  (I  speak  of  Morpheus) 
had  not  chosen  to  live  before  the  invention  of  canonization. 

This  morning  breakfasted  in  a  hurry,  and,  alas!  five,  six, 
seven,  eight,  or  ten  hours  of  railroad,  and  always  the  same 
thing — ^the  crowd,  and  to  be  isolated!  Isolation  is  cer- 
tainly sometimes  a  sad  thing ;  but  to  be  alone  and  find 
yourself  surrounded — or  be  jostled  by  the  multitude  and 
feel  that,  outside  of  the  indirect  relations  of  the  '  ticket 
oflice,'  no  other  tie  attaches  you  to  those  who  surround 
you — is  it  not  worse  than  ostracism  or  the  desert  ?  I  in- 
demnify myself  by  making  physiognomical  observations 
on  those  whom  I  meet.     I  classify  individuals. 

A  book  written  by  a  talented  observer  on  the  physiog- 
nomy of  the  public  would  be  very  interesting.  Lavater,  if 
he  had  had  the  great  misfortune  of  being  obliged  to  give 
concerts,  would  certainly  have  studied  the  character  of 
that  collective  being — ^that  monster — ^gentle  and  ferocious, 
satiated  and  famished,  glutted  and  corrupted,  artless  and 
capricious — which  is  called  the  public.  You  would  not 
believe  how  much  there  is  that  is  interesting  in  the  public 
(outside  of  the  receipts  which  are  naturally  the  most  im- 
portant of  its  phases).  Do  you  remember  the  story  of  the 
prisoner  in  the  Bastile,  who,  midst  the  horrors  of  his  cap- 
tivity, found  amusement  in  taming  a  mouse — ^the  only  com- 
panion of  his  solitude ;  and  of  that  other  who  beguiled  the 
monotony  of  his  time  by  hunting  in  the  dark  for  a  pin 


V 


192  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

which,  he  threw  away  at  random?  I  am  like  them.  The 
horrible  monotony  of  concerts,  the  invariable  repetition  of 
the  same  pieces,  the  daily  round  of  railroad  cars,  isolation 
in  the  midst  of  the  crowd  (the  saddest  thing  of  all),  force 
me  to  seek  for  distraction  in  my  torments  themselves. 

Whilst  I  play  I  study,  not  the  physiognomies,  but  the 
public.  I  propose  for  solution  the  following  problems: 
Why  does  the  public  on  one  day  applaud  to  the  skies  ? 
Why  does  it  remain  cold  on  another  ?  I  have  got  into 
feeling  its  pulse  at  my  first  appearance.  I  understand  by 
the  sound  of  the  applause  if  there  is  in  the  town  a  professor 
favourable  or  hostile  to  me.  I  could,  if  required,  tell  you 
by  the  general  expression  of  the  countenances  if  they  are 
German  or  Dutch  (I  call  German  the  countrymen  of  Schiller, 
Goethe,  Mendelssohn,  and  Beethoven,  and  Dutch  those 
whose  only  characteristic  traits  of  their  mother-country  are 
love  of  beer,  a  cordial  hatred  of  every  person  who  combs 
his  hair  regularly,  sometimes  washes  his  hands,  and  has 
the  unpardonable  weakness  not  to  circumscribe  his  geo- 
graphical notions  to  the  Rhine  o,r  Danube). 

I  could,  if  necessary,  even  tell  you  if  such  or  such  a 
musical  journal  has  or  has  not  many  subscribers  in  my 
audience  —  if  '  Mason's  Musical  World,'  or  '  Dwight's 
Journal,'  or  the  '  Home  Journal,'  are  in  the  majority— ^by 
the  warmth  or  coldness  of  the  audience. 

I  do  not  know  what  sorry  jester  said  that  there  was  only 
one  fantasia  for  the  flute ;  alluding  doubtless  to  the  intoler- 
able eftect  of  the  tepid-water  pipe  upon  all  the  lucubrations 
imprudently  confided  to  the  perfidious  instrument  of  Pan. 

I  have  come,  in  the  maze  of  the  giddy  whirl  of  the  con- 
cert in  which  I  find  myself,  and  thanks  to  the  invariable 
periodicity  which  thrusts  me  every  evening  upon  the  stage 
before  the  same  piano,  to  imagine  that  there  is  only  one 
public.  It  is  dangerous  and  capricious  in  its  humour,  but 
I  recognize  its  identity  by  invariable  and  characteristic 
signs. 

First.  The  young  girls  from  the  boarding-school  (may  I 
be  permitted  to  confess  that  it  is  the  most  interesting  ele- 
ment of  the  audience,  and  that  upon  which  my  attention 
most  willingly  rests).  '  Last  Hope'  and '  Pastorella,'  the  first, 
doubtless,  on  account  of  the  romantic  tint  of  its  title,  the 


THE  GREAT  DEAD.  193 

second,  thanks  to  the  small  talk  between  the  malicious  and 
awkward  young  girl,  and  the  amorous  chevalier,  have  gene- 
rally the  privilege  of  awakening  in  an  unequivocal  manner 
the  notice  of  the  pretty  battalion  on  the  left  or  right  winff. 
At  one  or  the  other  extremity,  like  the  guardian  ot  the  flocK 
charged  with  the  care  of  keeping  on  the  road  the  refractory 
sheep,  is  generally  found  the  local  Beethoven,  who  is  not 
celebrated,  and  whose  immaculate  and  delicate  taste  can 
not  be  pleased  with  the  plain  water-gruel  served  up  to  the 
barbarous  vulgar,  and  who  feeds  only  on  the  divine  am- 
brosia emanating  from  the  masters  (dead — this  is  important, 
and  purified  in  the  crucible  consecrated  by  opinion  and  by 
time) ;  this  is  of  the  best  tone,  seeing  that  aristocracv  is 
always  conservative.  The  great  dead!  how  many  little 
crimes  are  committed  in  their  name !  It  is  sweet  to  oe  able 
to  crush  a  living  youth  who  incommodes  you  (and  what 
way  is  more  commodious  and  less  compromising  than  to 
throw  an  old  name  at  his  head!). 

Chopin's  genius  has  developed  itself  within  the  fifteen 
years  since  he  has  rid  his  contemporaries  of  its  perishable 
envelope.  One  could  scarcely  believe  how  much  his  com- 
positions have  improved. 

Thirty  years  ago  he  travelled  in  Germany,  when  his 
compositions  only  obtained  the  disdainful  criticisms  of  the 
worshippers  of  suns  that  had  set. 

The  form !  0  pagans  of  art !  The  form !  When  then  will 
the  time  come,  routine  fetish  worshippers,  when  you  will 
have  the  courage  or  the  talent  to  avow  that  there  is  more 
genius  in  the  pretty  waltzes  of  Strauss  than  in  five  hundred 
pages  of  school-work;  in  eight  notes  of  genius,  wholly 
without  ornament,  ignorant  of  their  nakedness,  but  beauti- 
ful in  their  ignorance,  than  in  a  logarithmical  problem  ? 

There  was  a  period  in  France,  in  Italy,  and  in  Spain  when 
the  concetti  were  the  rage.  The  poetical  mania  in  its  licen- 
tiousness, deceiving  itself  in  its  devouring  fervour,  clung  to 
a  worship  of  material  tours  de  force.  The  idea!  What  is 
it  then?  It  matters  not  what  sensualists,  endowed  by  God 
with  the  power  of  creation,  can  imagine  it!  But  the  form, 
the  arrangement,  the  science,  the  metre,  in  this  lies  the 
difficulty. 

Already  under  the  lower  empire  the  rhetoricians  of  By- 
17 


194  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

zantiuin,  in  the  midst  of  the  general  decadence,  were  led 
astray  in  that  labyrinth  in  which  poetry  was  .lost  for  so 
many  centuries.  The  writers  of  concetti  did  better.  Had 
they,  for  example,  to  write  upon  a  cup  they  set  themselves 
to  work  to  compose  a  kind  of  Chinese  puzzle,  of  lines  (the 
meaning  of  them  being  almost  indifferent)  whose  different 
lengths  should,  in  their  ensemble^  give  to  the  eye  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  superb  cup !  What  patience,  and  above  all 
what  marvellous  knowledge  in  all  the  combinations  of  the 
phrase!  Others  proposed  to  themselves  to  write  a  poem  in 
which  the  letter  A  should  be  excluded;  and  for  twelve 
thousand  verses  they  promenaded  the  astonished  reader 
amid  an  ocean  of  metaphors  without  ever  striking  against 
the  banished  letter. 

The  self-made  Aristarchus  generally  gives  lessons  on  the 
piano.  His  hair  is  uncombed,  as  becomes  all  men  of  genius, 
who  respect  themselves  a  little.  He  professes  a  particular 
esteem  for  beer,  and  seeks  in  it  (without  excluding  other 
stimulants)  his  inspirations.  Hoffman,  the  fanciful,  has 
contributed  in  no  small  decree  to  the  immoderate  use  of 
liquor.  No  artist  can  truty  worship  art  who  does  not 
drown  his  faith  in  the  waves  of  the  fecundating  liquid, 
since  it  has  been  asserted  that  Hoffman  got  drunk  to 
write  his  fiantastic  tales.  Beethoven  and  Liszt  have  con- 
tributed to  the  advent  of  long  hair. 


There  is  within  me  a  want  of  equilibrium  between  my 
aspirations  and  my  aptitudes.  The  first  desire  to  soar  to- 
wards regions  of  incommensurable  sublimity,  while  the 
latter  tend  toward  the  lowest  depths  of  reality,  fettering  in 
some  way  the  flight  of  my  aspirations  and  keeping  me 
prisoner.  Thence  my  lack  of  confidence  in  myself  and  my 
irritability  when  I  am  criticized. 

If  I  write  my  imagination  takes  the  wings  of  Iris,  it 
traverses  space  and  shows  me  fairy  lands.  As  soon  as  I 
wish  to  place  it  upon  paper,  from  being  a  butterfly  it  be- 
comes a  bat.  The  wings  become  weighty  under  the  burden 
of  my  phrases,  and  fall  heavily.  The  mischievous  thing 
tempts  me,  draws  me  on,  intoxicates  me,  offers  me  a  thou- 


CARPET-BAG  EXISTENCE.  195 

sand  encouragements  to  follow  it.  With  pen  in  hand  I  try- 
to  give  a  form  framed  in  my  own  words  to  the  pretty  things 
she  permits  me  to  have  a  glimpse  of,  but  like  the  will-o'-the- 
wisp  that  the  belated  traveller  pursues,  it  vanishes  into  the 
darkness  at  the  moment  when  1  think  I  have  grasped  it. 

For  fifteen  months  mv  existence  has  been  that  of  a  carpet- 
bag. I  should  certainly  become  brutalized  by  this  daily 
routine  of  railroad  travel,  and  of  concerts,  if  I  had  not  set 
myself  to  work  to  find  some  possible  way  to  combat  the 
weariness  and  perils  of  the  road,  which  threaten  my  intel- 
ligence. I  have  tried  sleep,  and  have  Slept  a  great  deal,  but 
one  cannot  always  sleep.  I  soon  perceived  that  my  temper 
was  becoming  soured  by  being,  in  the  midst  of  a  delicious 
dream,  awakened  with  a  start  by  the  conductor  striking 
me  on  the  shoulder,  and  decisively  calling  out,  "Tickets, 
please." 

I  had  to  try  some  other  means.  I  had  somewhere  read 
that  the  Arab  of  the  desert,  to  appease  his  thirst,  put  small 
pebbles  into  his  mouth — the  salivary  glands,  irritated  by 
the  foreign  contact,  dilated,  and  in  feeling  his  mouth  moist- 
ened, the  poor  traveller  deluded  himself  into  thinking  that 
he  had  drunk  (a  German  would  not  fail  to  call  it  a  confu- 
sion between  the  objective  and  subjective).  Here  was  a 
ray  of  light.  Why  not,  said  I  to  myself,  should  I  not  try 
this  means;  and  by  transferring  the  'hydro-lithic'  process  of 
the  Arab  from  the  physical  to  the  moral  order  of  things, 
obtain  a  similar  result?  And  I  commenced  writing  my 
notes  of  travel.  Such  is  the  monotony  of  my  travels,  that 
I  soon  understood  that  what  I  wrote  was  much  less  the 
reflection  of  my  surroundings  than  the  expression  of  what 
took  place  within  myself.  But  as  that  notion  moistened 
my  brain,  constantly  menaced  with  petrifaction,  I  did  like 

the  Arab,  I  accepted  a  saliv salutaiy  illusion  by  which 

I  could  traverse,  without  succumbing,  the  '  Sahara'  of  con#- 
certs  through  which  I  have  whirled  for  inore  than  two 
years. 

I  am  fond  of  my  pocket-books  (I  was  about  to  sa^  my 
pebbles),  they  never  leave  me.  They  are  like  an  intimate 
companion  for  me,  a  mute  confidant  who  has  this  immense 
advantage  over  all  the  railroad  friends  I  have  ever  met,  of 
hearing  me  without  my  being  obliged  to  strain  my  voice 


196  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

over  the  Bhalp  summits  of  the  highest  notes,  since  it  listens 
to  me  and  never  interrupts  me,  it  is  discreet  (of  what  friends 
could  as  much  be  said  ?)  to  that  extent,  that  had  you  under 
your  eyes  the  ten  or  twelve  pocket-books  that  I  have  filled 
from  the  Mississippi  to  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  from  New 
York  to  the  Mormon  Desert,  they  would  take  great  care  to 
prevent  you  from  discovering  anything  else  than  undeci- 
pherable hieroglyphics ;  every  one  of  their  pages  looks  like 
the  side  of  an  obelisk.  The  jolts  of  the  road,  and  the  haste 
with  which  I  write,  assist,  it  is  true,  marvellously  in  making 
them  discreet.  There  are  steeples,  spirals,  lozenges,  rockets 
— ^what  should  I  say?  but  of  writing — none.  One  sees  in 
them  everything  and  nothing,  like  flying  clouds  chased  by 
the  wind,  in  which  every  one,  as  he  fancies,  sees  a  house, 
or  a  man  on  horseback,  or  a  chain  of  mountains. 

Decidedly  I  think  that  my  pocket-books  would  greatly 
gain  by  being  translated  into  vulgar  language.  Imagina- 
tion might  see  in  them  charming  things,  which  some  read- 
ers, alas,  will  search  for  in  vain  at  the  end  of  my  pen.  I 
am  only  a  pianist,  do  not  forget  it,  and  an  American, 
which  is  more  than  I  require  to  be  pardoned  for  my  bung- 
ling style  and  awkward  language. 

Elmiba,  New  York,  Sunday,  June,  1863. 

I  am  convinced  that  some  savant  Avill  one  day  discover 
that  time  is  a  fluid  which  expands  and  contracts  according 
as  it  is  exposed  to  such  or  such  moral  atmospheres.  No 
one  will  ever  make  me  believe,  for  instance,  that  Sunday  at 
Elmira  is  composed  of  twelve  such  hours  as  the  other  days 
of  the  week. 

This  morning,  after  breakfast,  I  took  a  nap.  Then  I 
went  down  into  the  parlour  of  the  hotel,  where  I  found  two 
ladies  with  their  Sunday  faces  on — ^that  is,  looking  as  dis- 
^lal  as  possible.  I  also  found  there  a  large  Bible.  Every 
one  knows  how  strictly  Sunday  is  observed  in  all  puritanical 
countries.  To  judge  from  appearances,  it  is  a  day  devoted 
to  lamenting  the  irreparable  affliction  which  God  has  in- 
flicted on  us  by  the  gift  of  existence.  It  is  to  die  of  the 
spleen. 

I  do  not  know  if  God  in  his  goodness  ever  thinks  of  us ; 
but  if  he  thinks  of  casting  his  eyes,  on  a  Sunday,  upon  his 


BIBLE  SOCIETIES.  197 

creation  in  America,  it  is  very  doubtful  whether  he  re- 
joices in  his  work,  on  seeing  so  many  disheartened  faces. 
As  to  the  Bible  (like  that  I  found  in  the  parlour),  I  should 
not  have  remarked  it  except  for  its  colossal  proportions. 
The  zeal  of  the  Bible  societies  is  such  that  you  cannot  find 
a  hotel — ^what  do  I  say? — ^a  chamber  in  a  hotel  or  steamer 
without  one  or  more  Bibles.  The  number  of  Old  Testa- 
ments which  the  Bible  societies  gratuitously  dispose  of 
amounts  annually  to  two  millions ;  two-thirds  of  the  books 
are  sent  to  the  Malays,  Chinese,  Hindoos,  CafBrs,  Malgaches, 
and  Siamese,  who  doubtless  receive  them  joyfully,  and  sell 
them  to  their  grocers  by  weight ;  the  remainder  are  dis- 
tributed in  the  United  States,  especially  among  the  soldiers. 
I  dare  to  assert  that  among  them  miscreants  are  to  be  found, 
regardless  of  the  Hebrew  epics,  whose  sacrilegious  pipes  are 
lighted  with  the  erotic  heat  of  the  canticle  of  canticles  of 
Solomon. 

Besides  the  Bible  societies  there  are,  in  every  town.  Tract 
societies,  which  rival  the  ardour  of  the  first,  and  whose  mis- 
sion is  to  scatter  profusely  all  sorts  of  religious  Bible  stories, 
edifying  anecdotes,  miraculous  conversions,  parallels  be- 
tween infidels  and  Protestants,  and  the  sectarian  excellence 

of  the  sect (here  place  the  name  of  one  of  the  two 

or  three  hundred  sects  that  flourish  in  the  United  States, 
each  one  of  which  aspires  to  govern  the  others).  All  this  in 
pamphlets,  fly-leaves,  etc.,  which  rain  upon  the  traveller  in 
the  steamer,  in  the  hotels,  in  the  railroad  cars,  in  the  streets, 
everywhere,  finally,  where  the  presence  of  a  man  gives 
promise  of  a  soul  to  be  saved  and  a  recruit  into  the  ranks 
of  the  phalanx,  be  it  Universalist,  Methodist,  Calvinist, 
Puseyite,  Baptist,  Spiritualist,  or  something  else.  I  recall 
a  good  man  who  was^  always  found  in  the  trains  going  from 
New  York  to  Philadelphia,  at  seven  o'clock  on  Sunday 
evening  (the  only  train  permitted  on  that  day),  and  who 
strove  to  slip,  whether  or  no,  into  the  travellers'  pockets  a 
little  sermon  on  the  non-observance  of  the  Sabbath  day,  and 
the  terrible  punishments  reserved  for  those  who  by  travel- 
ling on  Sunday  committed  the  crime  of  high  treason  against 
the  Divinity. 

What  could  I  do  ?  No  stores  open,  no  carriages  in  the 
streets,  not  the  least  noise,  not  the  least  sign  of  life,  except 

17* 


198  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

a  few  passers-by,  who,  gliding  along  rather  like  shadows 
than  living  beings,  were  §oing  to  or  returning  from  church, 
which  makes  it  all  dull,  silent,  desolate.  The  town  appears 
as  if  it  had  been  visited  by  the  plague  or  cholera.  Wearied 
to  death,  I  opened  the  great  Bible ;  after  having  "  traversed 
the  desert  with  Moses,  been  drowned  in  the  sea  with 
Pharaoh,  and  having  been  present  at  one  or  two  massacres 
of  the  Philistines,"  I  felt  inclined  to  meditate  thereon,  and 
went  up-stairs  to  my  room  to  sleep. 

0  human  inconsistency !  The  piano,  which  has  been  a 
torment  to  me  all  the  week,  possesses  for  me  to-day  an  irre- 
sistible charm.  It  is  the  charm  of  forbidden  fruit!  for, 
although  it  is  permitted  (by  going  to  the  bar  through  the 
back  door)  to  take  an  indefinite  number  of  brandy,  whiskey, 
or  gin  cocktails,  to  play  on  the  piano,  except  under  certam 
psaimodic  restrictions,  is  positively  prohibited.  The  harp 
perhaps  might  be  tolerated — ^for  David  played  the  harp — 
but  the  piano,  fy! 

About  seven  years  ago,  one  Sunday  at  Cape  May,  I  sat 
down  in  my  chamber  to  practise  a  polka — the  'Forest 
Glade' — ^which  I  was  then  composing.  Just  as  I  com- 
menced, a  violent  thunder-storm  burst  over  the  hotel,  and, 
at  the  first  flash  of  lightning,  several  ladies  and  a  clergy- 
man, seeing  in  the  storm  an  unmistakable  sign  of  Divine 
wrath,  came  rapping  at  my  door  imploring  me  to  stop  my 
profane,  though  anything  but  tempestuous,  music.  I  now 
remember,  too  distinctly,  the  scandalized  countenances  of 
these  worthy  people  for  me  to  venture  again  on  any  such 
experiment. 

Fortunately  the  gong  (which  is  no  respecter  of  the  Sab- 
bath, or  any  other  day)  sounded  for  dinner.  Somebody  had 
*  appropriated'  my  hat,  doubtless  involuntarily,  as  I  found 
another  in  its  place ;  but  somehow  in  all  such  cases,  by  a 
phenomenon  which  I  cannot  undertake  to  explain,  the  hat 
which  is  left  in  the  place  of  yours  is  invariably  an  old  one. 

This  reminds  me  of  an  incident  connected  with  the 
Princess  de  Solm.  This  charming  and  accomplished 
woman  (she  was  only  a  countess  by  right,  though  people 
persisted  in  calling  her  princess,  probably  on  account  of  her 
problematic  relationship  to  the  Emperor  Napoleon)  was  in 
1861,  the  time  I  was  presented  to  her,  merely  a  delicious 


MONSIEUR  DE  SOLM.  199 

little  creature,  full  of  wit,  who  was  trying  her  wings  in 
Paris  before  attempting  to  soar,  but  whom,  under  some  ab- 
surd pretence,  official  and  other  stupid  circles  refused  to 
receive.  The  gossips  pretended,  though  I  never  believed  a 
word  of  it,  that  she  had  taken  out  her  letters  of  naturaliza- 
tion in  the  Cytherean  Valley,  which  extends  along  the 
heights  of  Notre  Dame  de  Lorette. 

Baden-Baden  was  at  this  epoch  only  the  rendezvous  of 
hypochondriacs,  wealthy  do-nothings,  and  gamblers.  Berlioz 
had  never  thought  of  fledging  his  operas  there,  nor  Octave 
Feuillet  his  comedies,  nor,  in  fine,  Mme.  de  Solm  her 
'Proverbs,'  to  which,  and  her  beautiful  eyes,  she  was  indebted 
for  her  ascendency  in  certain  literary  and  gallant  coteries. 

You  know  that  she  was  married  again,  some  months  ago, 
to  Chevalier  Ratazzi,  the  celebrated  minister  of  the  King 
of  Italy.  At  the  period  of  which  I  speak,  her  beauty  was 
certainly  ravishing,  and  her  wit  sparkling ;  but  she  had  two 
defects.  One,  that  she  was  deaf  (alas !  she  still  is) ;  the 
other  that  she  had  Monsieur  de  Solm  for  a  husband — Mon- 
sieur de  Solm,  whom  society,  with  that  instinctive  percep- 
tion, which  is  the  infallible  characteristic  of  the  masses, 
never  called  otherwise  than  the  "husband  of  Madame  de 
Solm."  He  is  dead,  now,  poor  man!  and  without  ever 
having  seen  the  Chevalier  Ratazzi,  his  successor.  I  think  I 
may  boldly  affirm  that  she  has  lost  nothing  by  the  change. 

One  evening  at  the  house  of  the  Marchioness  of  Salcedo 
(she  is  said  to  have  been  a  particular  friend  of  Ferdinand 
vll..  King  of  Spain,  who  was  also  visited  frequently  at  the 
time  by  Mile,  de  Montijo,  now  Empress)  I  found  in  the 
place  of  my  hat,  which  was  new,  one  so  old  and  of  such 
singular  shape,  that  despite  my  good  nature,  I  could  not 
keep  from  loudly  protesting  against  the  change.  One  of 
my  friends  heard  me,  and  touched  with  my  misfortune, 
proceeded  to  examine  the  fossil  chapeau  I  had  in  my  hands. 
"  Why  that,"  said  he, "  is  the  hat  of  the  husband  of  Madame 
de  Solm;"  I  recognized  it  at  once ;  nobody  but  he  wore  such 
old  hats.  Whereupon  I  approached  the  Count,  and,  sure 
enough,  he  had  my  hat  under  his  arm.  He  niade  me  a 
thousand  excuses — for  after  all  he  was  a  gentleman — and 
to  our  mutual  satisfaction  we  entered  once  more  into  pos- 
session of  our  legitimate  coiftures. 


200  ,  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

We  leave  to-morrow  for  Williamsport,  in  Pennsylvania. 
I  have  given  this  week  ten  concerts  in  six  days  in  ten  dif- 
ferent towns. 

•  I  might  have  gone  this  evening  to  hear  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Beecher,  who  has  a  church  here ;  but  I  was  told  he  is  but 
a  copy — minus  the  eloquence  and  talent — of  his  brother, 
another  minister,  whose  congregation  is  considered  to  be 
the  most  aristocratic  and  the  richest  in  New  York  or 
Brooklyn.  The  Beechers,  father  and  sons,  are  ministers, 
and  all  very  distinguished.  The  present  generation  reckons 
five  brothers,  all  ministers,  and  one  sister.  Madam  Beecher- 
Stowe,  the  celebrated  author  of '  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin.'  The 
Reverend  Henry  Ward  Beecher  has  acquired  great  notoriety 
outside  of  his  evangelical  jurisdiction  by  the  impassioned 
enthusiasm  with  which  he  combats  slavery.  He  is  the  idol 
of  his  congregation,  to  such  an  extent,  that  they  have  lately 
offered  to  pay  all  the  expenses  of  a  five  months'  voyage  to 
Europe,  besides  his  ordinary  salary.  He  has  accepted  the 
offer,  and  at  this  time  is  visiting  England  before  going  to 
Paris,  where  he  cannot  fail  to  distinguish  himself. 

WiLLiAMSPOBT,  Pa.,  Monday,  June  15,  1863. 

Left  Elmira  this  morning  at  4  o'clock.  Arrived  at  Wil- 
liamsport  after  a  journey  of  seven  hours.  Williamsport  is 
a  very  pretty  town,  containing  about  five  thousand  inhabi- 
tants. On  a  milliner's  sign  I  saw  the  words  '  Ice  Cream.' 
This  hybrid  business  reminded  me  of  the  Island  of  St. 
Thomas,  where  the  publisher  of  the  'Tidende'  (a  Danish 
newspaper)  is  a  manufacturer  of  bathing-tubs,  and  where 
tobacconists  sell  preserves  and  patent  medicines.  The  mil- 
liner has  a  very  pretty  little  boudoir  in  the  rear  of  her 
shop ;  it  is  the  sanctum  sanctorum,  where  she  probably  tries 
on  the  dresses.  A  small  marble-top  table  makes  one  sus- 
pect that  it  is  also  the  refreshment  saloon.  In  the  window 
I  see  baskets  of  strawberries  and  straw  hats,  the  former 
looking  like  bonnets  yw^^,  and  the  latter  like  baskets  empty. 
The  music  seller  is  a  clock  maker.  There  is  an  air  of  ease, 
simplicity,  and  cheerfulness  about  the  place  that  reminds 
me  of  the  Swiss  villages. 

4  P.  M.  The  town  is  all  in  commotion.  A  despatch 
has  been  received  announcing  the  invasion  of  the  State  by 


LEE  AND  M'CLELLAN.  201 

three  columns  of  Rebels,  marching  on  the  capital.  The 
despatch  is  placarded  on  all  the  street  comers.  You  may 
easily  imagine  the  agitation  caused  by  this  news.  For 
myself,  I  am  less  surprised  at  it  than  worried.  The  appa- 
rent inactivity  of  General  Lee  had  too  much  the  appear- 
ance of  a  feint  not  to  leave  us  to  suspect  him  of  appearing 
unexpectedly  on  some  one  of  the  weak  frontier  points  of 
Maryland  or  Pennsylvania. 

Do  not  be  in  a  hurry  to  accuse  the  Federal  general-in- 
chief  of  want  of  skill.  Do  not  forget  (as  the  European 
journals  have  done)  that  our  war  embraces  an  extent  of 
territory  equal  to  the  whole  of  Europe — Russia  excepted. 
What  army  of  observation  could  flatter  itself  with  pre- 
venting an  incursion  of  the  enemy  on  a  frontier  line  whose 
extent,  on  the  north,  should  be  hundreds  of  leagues,  at  one 
end  of  which  should  be  placed  a  capital  to  be  defended  in 
the  face  of  another  formidable  army  always  ready  and 
eager  to  pounce  upon  it? 

Remember,  also,  that  friends  and  enemies,  loyal  and  dis- 
loyal, Federal  and  Confederate,  speak  the  same  language, 
have  the  same  manners,  the  same  phvsiognomy,  or  nearly  so, 
and  almost  the  same  unifcPrms;  circumstances  which  by 
facilitating  espionage  at  the  same  time  neutralize  the  ser- 
vices they  might  otherwise  render.  The  people  themselves 
— Secessionists  to-night.  Unionists  to-morrow,  and  vice 
versd^  according  as  the  vicissitudes  of  war  make  them  fall 
into  the  power  of  one  or  the  other  party — ofler  so  many 
embarrassments  to  the  Federal  general,  who  feels  the  im- 
prudence of  listening  to  the  information  he  receives,  not 
knowing  whether  the  source  from  which  it  emanat-es  is 
worthy  or  suspicious.  This  will  explain  the  state  of  things 
at  Yorktown,  with  its  Quaker  guns,  and  a  few  pieces  of 
veritable  artillery  holding  the  army  of  General  McClellan 
in  check  little  more  than  a  year  ago,  while  the  Confederate 
artillery  had  been  transported,  unknown  to  the  Federalists, 
beyond  the  Chickahominy.^  The  front  of  Lee's  army 
threatening  Washington  was  formidable  for  three  weeks, 

1  That  General  McCleUan  could  not  have  been  aware  of  the  true  state 
of  things,  with  all  the  resources  of  the  Federal  Government  at  his  back, 
and  with  the  most  daring  and  intelligent  men  under  his  command,  is  not 
to  be  conceived  of  by  any  one  of  ordinary  intelligence. — ^Ts. 


202  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

and  apparently  menaced  it ;  but  the  Confederate  general 
had  filed  oft*  the  flank  of  his  best  divisions,  and,  thanks  to 
the  co-operation  of  the  inhabitants,  his  manoeuvres  were 
not  discovered  until  his  first  columns  had  entered  for  two 
days  into  the  Cumberland  Valley. 

besides,  Pennsylvania  is  a  mountainous  country,  covered 
with  impenetrable  forests,  intersected  by  rivers  and  brooks, 
with  immense  spaces  of  uncultivated  ground,  that  is  to  say, 
with  all  the  elements  fitted  to  complicate  or  render  ineffi- 
cient the  vigilance  of  an  army  of  observation.  Finally, 
Lee  is  a  great  general,  judging  from  the  testimony  of 
General  Scott,  who  considered  him  before  the  rebellion  the 
best  strategist  in  America.  Again,  it  must  not  be  forgotten 
that  the  Federals  have  had  to  attack  the  Confederates  on 
their  own  ground;  they  defended  themselves;  and  as  an 
old  Spanish  proverb  says :  "£^5  tan  fuerte  un  hombre  en  su 
casa  que  aun  cuando  muerto  se  necessitan  cuatro  para 
UevarW  ("A  man  is  so  strong  in  his  own  house  that,  even 
when  dead,  it  requires  four  meil  to  carry  him  out"). 

5  P.  M.  Another  despatch  from  the  Governor  of  Penn- 
sylvania calling  all  able-bodied  citizens  to  arms.  The 
Confederates,  says  the  despatch,  have  seized  Martinsburg, 
and  are  making  forced  marches  on  Hagerstown.  This  last 
town  is  only  forty-five  miles  from  the  State  capital. 

I  go  out  into  the  streets.  The  crowds  multiply  and 
increase  every  moment.  I  pass  again  before  the  shop  of 
the  fruit-milliner:  her  hats  full  of  strawberries  and  her 
beribboned  baskets  are  still  there,  but  the  poor  woman 
appears  terribly  frightened. 

A  volunteer  military  band  (the  only  one  in  "Williams- 
port)  draws  up  in  battle  array  on  the  principal  square ;  is 
it  necessary  for  me  to  say  that  it  is  composed  of  Germans 
(all  the  musicians  in  the  United  States  are  Germans)? 
There  are  five  of  them :  A  cornet  k  piston  with  a  broken- 
down  constitution  (I  speak  of  the  instrument),  a  cavernous 
trombone,  an  ophicleide  too  low,  a  clarionet  too  high,  a 
sour-looking  fifer  —  all  of  an  independent  and  irascible 
temper,  but  united  for  the  moment  through  their  hatred 
of  time  and  their  desire  vigorously  to  cast  off  its  yoke.    I 


FAMILY  OF  THE  PATTIS.  203 

must  confess  that  they  succeeded  to  that  extent  that  I  am 
doubtful  whether  they  played  in  a  major  or  minor  key. 

Fresh  despatches  received  excite  the  greatest  consterna- 
tion. The  Confederates  are  marching  on  Harrisburg.  The 
crowd  is  stirred  up ;  patriotic  meetings  are  organized.  An 
old  gentleman  in  black  clothes,  with  a  large  officer's  scarf 
around  his  waist,  harangues  from  the  porch  of  the  hotel 
many  of  his  friends.  The  band  strikes  up,  and  marches 
through  the  streets,  which  fills  the  people  with  military 
ardour,  thanks  to  the  strains,  more  noisy  than  harmonious, 
of  this  performing  cohort. 

With  all  this,  the  chances  for  the  concert  this  evening 
are  rather  dubious.  The  receipts,  which  promised  femously 
this  morning,  are  suddenly  paralyzed. 

11  P.  M.  I  played  this  evening,  after  all,  before  a  very 
respectable  audience,  which  listened  with  marked  interest 
and  a  more  sustained  attention  than  I  always  meet  with  in 
the  audiences  of  small  towns.  My  little  piece  entitled  the 
'Union,'  was  much  applauded ;  it  suited  the  moment. 

Madam  Strakosch  also  (sister  of  Adelina  Patti,  and  wife 
of  Maurice  Strakosch)  was  very  much  applauded.  She 
possesses  a  very  agreeable  contralto  voice,  a  sympathetic 
appearance,  and  a  popular  name,  three  conditions  of  suc- 
cess, enhanced,  in  her  case,  by  distinguished  manners,  and 
a  private  life  which  the  tongue  of  slander  has  never  assailed. 
The  family  of  the  Pattis  is  truly  a  dynasty  of  distinguished 
singers.  The  father,  Salvator  Patti,  was  still  twenty  years 
ago  an  excellent  tenor  di  forza.  His  wife  (the  mother  of 
Adelina)  a  fiery  lyric  tragic  actress,  of  the  name  of  Barili 
(she  was  first  married  to  Signer  Barili),  is  still  celebrated 
in  Portugal,  Spain,  and  Naples,  where  she  achieved  some 
great  triumphs.  I  said  that  she  was  a  fiery  actress.  She 
sometimes  had  transports  not  always  connected  with  Art, 
and,  it  is  reported,  several  times  allowed  herself  to  be  car- 
ried away  into  violent  apostrophes  against  the  audience 
for  not  listening  to  her  with  all  the  attention  and  respect 
due  to  her  talent.  A  very- worthy  woman  otherwise.  These 
freaks  were  readily  forgiven,  thanks  to  her  fine  voice  and 
to  her  large  black  eyes,  which  Adelina  has  inherited. 


204  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

Her  eldest  daughter,  Clotilde  Barili  (deceased  some  four  or 
five  years  ago)  was  eminently  successful  in  New  York  and  all 
Spanish  America,  particulariy  at  Lima  and  San  Francisco. 
Her  sons,  Ettore  Barili,  a  distmguished  baritone,  Antonio,  a 
basso  profundo,  and  Nicole  Barili,  basso  chantante,  bravely 
maintained  the  reputation  of  the  family.  The  children  of 
the  second  marriage  (Patti)  are,  Amalia  Patti,  married  to 
Maurice  Strakosch,  a  very  distinguished  pianist,  whose 
charming  compositions  deserve  to  be  better  known;  Car- 
lotta,  whose  extraordinary  voice  and  marvellous  agility 
have  set  wild  the  United  States,  and  are  just  now  exciting  in 
London  a  second  edition  of  the  enthusiasm  which  Adelina 
has  sained  there.  After  Carlotta  come  Carlo  and  Adelina ; 
the  mst  Europe  is  already  acquainted  with ;  as  to  Carlo, 
he  is  a  fine  fellow,  rather  Bohemian,  as  his  adventurous 
temper  has  led  him  to  California  and  Mexico  (where  he 
played  the  violin  in  a  very  remarkable  manner) ;  to  New 
York,  where  he  sung,  married,  and  divorced  (he  was  then 
seventeen  years  of  age);  to  Memphis,  where,  after  having 
been  the  hero  of  gallant  adventures,  he  re-married,  it  is  said, 
enlisted  as  private  in  the  Southern  army,  became  musical 
leader,  was  killed  and  resuscitated  in  many  battle  bulletins, 
and  is  as  well  to-day  as  all  the  other  Pattis,  who  to  so  many 

Jrivileges  add  that  of  never  being  sick.    What  a  family ! 
)o  you  know  as  many  in  art  whose  coats-of-arms  are  worth 
as  much  as  those  that  I  have  just  enumerated? 

WiLLiAMSFOBT)  Midnight,  June  15,  1863. 

I  suggested  to  Strakosch  that  the  concert  announced  for 
to-morrow  at  Harrisburg  had  better  be  given  up.  It  is 
evident  that  people  who  expect  every  moment  to  be  bom- 
barded are  not  in  the  state  of  mind  to  hear  *  Cradle  Songs,' 
'  Eolian  Murmurs,'  etc.,  to  say  nothing  of  the  risk  we  might 
run  by  rushing  into  the  lion's  den.  But  the  prospect  of  a 
good  house,  and  the  probability  that  the  rumours  of  inva- 
sion were  exaggerated,  made  him  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  me. 

At  the  concert  this  evening,  I  noticed  a  young  man,  who 
having  occasion  to  cross  the  hall  did  so  on  tip-toe,  not  seem- 
ing to  share  the  general  opinion  in  this  country  that  in 
such  cases  it  is  best  to  make  as  much  noise  as  possible. 
Incomparable  young  man!  how  I  regret  not  being  able  to 


INTEMPERANCE  OF  WOMAN.  205 

inscribe  thy  name  on  mv  tablets,  or  have  it  engraved  in 
letters  of  gold,  in  order  tnat  it  may  be  handed  down  to  the 
admiration  of  posterity ! 

I  leave  to-morrow  morning  for  Harrisburg. 

Making  all  allowance  for  exaggeration,  there  is  no  longer 
any  doubt  that  the  rebels  are  advancing  towards  the  capi- 
tal, and  I  begin  to  think  that  unless  it  be  a  part  of  the  plan 
of  Strakosch  to  make  me  play  before  General  Jenkins  and 
his  staff',  our  concert  to-morrow  will  hardly  come  oft*. 

Another  division,  or  rather  army  corps,  of  which  the 
command  of  Jenkins  is  only  the  advance,  is  already  at  Car- 
lisle, in  the  valley  of  the  Cumberland.  It  is  commanded 
by  Ewell,  the  general  that  Stonewall  Jackson  recommended 
on  his  death-bed,  and  designated  as  worthy  of  succeeding 
him  in  the  command  of  the  famous  Stonewall  brigade.  This 
General  Ewell  has  become  famous  for  his  rare  intrepidity. 
He  has  a  wooden  leg,  which  he  has  fastened  to  his  saddle 
on  the  day  of  battle. 

Stuart,  the  general  of  cavalry  of  Lee's  army,  is  young, 
handsome,  brave,  and  ffenerous.  The  last  information 
having  been  given  me  oy  a  Baltimore  belle,  strongly  at- 
tached to  the  Secessionists,  as  are  almost  all  the  ladies  of 
Maryland,  I  cannot  guarantee  its  exactitude.  A  woman's 
imagination  is  a  deceitful  prism  through  which  she  sees 
everything  rose  colour  or  everything  black,  according  as 
she  loves  or  hates  the  object  which  is  reflected.  This  would 
furnish,  if  I  knew  how  to  write,  matter  for  a  very  long 
chapter,  in  which,  acknowledging  that  it  is  the  privilege 
of  woman  to  inspire  in  us  our  noblest  actions,  and  to  be 
the  source  of  all  our  poesy,  I  would  deplore  the  influence 
which  they  so  fatally  exert  over  our  conduct.  But  for  the 
women  our  civil  war  would  long  ago  have  been  ended. 
Through  their  imprudent  zeal,  and  the  intemperance  of 
their  opinions,  which,  in  politics  as  in  other  things,  carry 
them  beyond  their  mark,  they  have  on  both  sides  con- 
tributed to  foment  the  discord  and  to  envenom  the  strife. 
Quevedo,  the  great  satirist,  was  accustomed  to  cry  out  when 
any  event,  catastrophe,  or  crime  was  related  to  him,  "  Quien 
es  eUa?"  "Who  is  she?"  Indeed,  women  are  found  at 
the  bottom  of  eveiy  social  revolution,  and  in  all  the  little 
accidents  of  social  life. 
18 


206  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

Imbued  with  prejudices,  they  execrate  or  adore  a  princi- 
ple, a  law,  a  race,  as  their  rancour  or  their  personal  affec- 
tions drive  them  in  this  or  that  direction;  nervous  and  irri- 
table they  become  heroic,  without  suspecting  it,  like  Mr. 
Jourdain,  who  wrote  prose  without  knowing  it ;  passionate 
and  unreflecting,  they  commit  with  innocent  frankness 
monstrous  cruelties,  at  which  their  tender  natures  would 
revolt  if  the  blindness  of  their  passion  did  not  almost 
always  prevent  them  from  seeing  rationally  and  soberly. 
Without  giving  entire  faith  to  the  stories  of  jewels  made 
from  bones  gathered  on  the  battle-fields,  I  will  cite  that 
woman  of  the  South,  who  burst  into  laughter  on  seeing  the 
funeral  procession  pass  by  of  a  young  Federal  officer,  killed 
near  Baton-Rouge ;  and  that  young  madwoman  of  thel^orth, 

A — —  D ,  unfortunately  endowed  with  eloquence,  who, 

for  some  time  has  gone  about  'lecturing,'  preaching  with 
ferocious  simplicity  the  massacre  of  all  classes  in  the  South ; 
and  the  'strong-minded  women'  of  New  England,  who 
demand  the  annihilation  of  the  McClellan  party,  because 
it  is  too  moderate  towards  the  rebels  and  the  women. 
What  do  I  say?  The  ladies  of  Baltimore,  of  Nashville, 
and  St.  Louis,  crying  as  loud  as  they  can  bawl,  "Hurrah 
for  Jefferson  Davis  !'^  in  the  presence  of  wounded  Federals, 
wrapping  up  their  children  in  Confederate  flags,  and  making 
them  sing  every  time  an  ofl[icer  of  the  United  States  passes 
by,  'My  Maryland'  or  'Dixie,'  for  the  purpose  of  drawing  on 
themselves  the  prosecution  of  the  government,  or  of  render- 
ing plausible  the  reproaches  which  the  enemies  of  the  latter 
make,  that  it  attacks  women  and  children ;  and  my  beautiful 
female  fellow-citizens  in  New  Orleans,  provoking  the  ofli- 
cers  of  Butler  so  far  as  to  render  indispensable  the  regret- 
able  measures  which  that  general  thought  it  his  duty  to 
take,  seeing  a  conflict  becoming  imminent  on  account  of 
their  incessant  hostile  manifestations.  Here  is  what  a  young 
officer,  a  friend  of  mine,  wrote  to  me  on  this  subject :  "  On 
arriving  at  New  Orleans,  I  flattered  myself  that  I  was  above 
such  little  annoyances ;  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  con- 
sider them  as  childish  behaviour ;  but  soon,  I  admit,  the 
contortions,  the  grimaces,  the  sneers  of  the  women  that  I 
met,  the  insulting  care  with  which  they  placed  their  hand- 
kerchiefs on  their  nose  when  they  met  me,  or  wiped  their 


GENERAL  BUTLER* S  ORDERS.  207 

dress  if  they  had  touched  me  in  passing,  the  afteetation 
with  which  they  walked  in  the  mud  in  the  middle  of  the 
street,  rather  than  to  walk  on  the  pavement  where  I  hap- 
pened to  be; — all  these  little,  pin-point  annoyances,  to  a 
man  well  educated,  who  was  disposed  to  accord  them  his 
protection,  and  to  respect  them,  triumphed  over  my  philoso- 
phy, and  caused  me  a  sort  of  painful  humiliation  that  you 
caimot  imagine ;  and  nevertheless  these  insults  are  nothing 
in  comparison  with  those  which  many  of  my  companions 
have  suffered!"  However,  without  undertaking  to  make 
an  apology  for  all  the  acts  of  Butler,  I  do  not  easily  under- 
stand the  indignation  caused  in  Europe  by  his  famous  order 
of  the  day,  which  says  that  *  every  woman  who  shall  in- 
sult an  officer  or  soldier  in  the  streets  will  be  considered  as 
a  common  woman/  I  have  no  need  of  Butler  to  arrive  at 
the  same  conclusion,  and  the  proof  of  it  is,  in  the  answer 
of  Beauregard's  sister,  whose  opinion  was  asked  respecting 
this  'infamous  edict/  I  have  none,  said  she,  seeing  it  does 
not  concern  me.  Is  it  difficult  to  judge  by  this  answer  that 
she  was  a  lady,  and  consequently  had  nothing  to  fear,  as  the 
order  of  Butler  did  not  justify  the  insults  of  an  officer  or 
soldier  to  her  ? 

I  do  not  like  war,  and  military  glory  affects  me  but 
slightly  when  it  is  not  justified  by  a  great  principle :  the 
Italian  war,  and  that  of  the  war  of  mdependence  in  the 
United  States,  for  example.  Strong-minded  women  are 
ridiculous,  and  they  become  odious  as  soon  as  their  mission 
ceases  to  be  that  of  tenderness,  of  charity,  and  devotion. 
*Lady  de  Forli,'  of  whom  Machiavel  speaks,  was  an  un- 
natural mother,  an  indecent  virago ;  Charlotte  Corday,  a 
romantic  and  probably  amorous  fool ;  and  all  the  women  of 
the  South  and  I^orth,  who  place  themselves  in  their  bal- 
conies in  festal  garments  when  the  coffin  of  an  officer  of  the 
enemy  passes  by,  and  who  thus  insult  the  august  majesty 
of  death,  by  displaying  ridiculous  emblems,  fill  me  with 
horror ! 

It  is  one  o'clock  in  the  morning.  They  beat  the  Ho 
arms'  in  the  streets.  I  leave  at  dayliffht  for  Harrisburg, 
for,  notwithstanding  my  remarks,  Strakosch  turns  a  deaf 
ear  to  me. 


208  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 


CHAPTER  X. 

WiLLiAMSPOBT,  June  16,  4  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

A  FRESH  telegram  from  the  Governor  orders  all  the 
National  Guards  to  hurry  to  the  defence  of  the  State 
capital. 

One  of  my  cousins,  a  member  of  Congress,  and  a  major 
in  the  Home  Guards  of  Philadelphia,  has  informed  me  that 
he  leaves  for  Harrisbur^  with  his  regiment.  Another  of 
my  cousins  is  an  officer  m  the  Southern  Army.  Sad  war! 
Both  nearly  of  the  same  age  and  bound  to  each  other  by 
fraternal  affection,  the  hazards  of  this  terrible  strife  may 
perchance  place  them  face  to  face  with  arms  in  their  hands! 

In  the  cars  on  the  bo  ad  to  Habbisbubo. 

Decidedly,  Hagerstown  is  in  possession  of  the  Confede- 
rates. The  Governor  enjoins  the  people  to  place  before  their 
doors  all  the  empty  barrels  which  they  may  have  to  dis- 
pose of;  they  will  use  them  on  the  fortifications  which  are 
to  be  thrown  up  at  Harrisburg.  AH  along  the  road  we 
see  the  agriculturists  in  arms,  in  battle  array  and  perform- 
ing military  evolutions.  They  all  seem  disposed  to  obey 
the  command  of  the  Governor,  who  orders  all  able-bodied 
men  to  the  field  to  meet  the  enemy,  and  to  take  the  Sus- 
quehanna as  the  line  for  battle. 

A  traveller  whom  we  took  up  at  the  last  station  assures 
us  that  the  Confederate  Army  is  not  more  than  thirty  miles 
from  Harrisburg.  Everybody  is  frightened.  Strakosch 
begins  to  see  his  mistake. 

it  is  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  train  continues  to 
advance  at  the  highest  speed  towards  Harrisburg,  that  is 
to  say  towards  Jenkins,  since  the  city  must  be  attacked 
this  evening,  if  it  is  not  already  taken.  What  shall  we  do? 
As  for  the  concert  it  is  out  of  the  question ;  but  ourselves, 


AN  ANXIO  US  HO  UR.  209 

our  trunks — my  pianos — what  is  to  become  of  ud  in  all  this 
confusion? 

1  P.  M.  A  mile  this  side  of  Harrisburg  the  road  is 
completely  obstructed  by  freight  trains,  wagons  of  all  sorts, 
and  in  fine  by  all  the  immense  mass  of  merchandise,  etc., 
which  for  the  last  twelve  hours  has  been  concentrated  near 
the  town  to  avoid  capture  or  burning  by  the  rebels.  The 
train  stops  at  the  middle  of  the  bridge  over  the  Susque- 
hanna— ^why?  The  anxiety  increases.  Can  you  conceive 
anything  more  terrible  than  the  expectation  of  some  vague, 
unknown  danger?  Some  passengers  have  sat  upon  the 
floor,  to  be  sheltered  from  bullets  in  case  the  train  should 
be  fired  upon. 

One  hour  of  anxiety,  during  which  all  the  women,  whilst 
pretending  to  be  dead  with  fright,  do  not  cease  talking  and 
making  tne  most  absurd  conjectures.  I  am  myself  only 
slightly  comforted,  and  the  idea  of  a  journey  to  the  South 
at  this  time  is  not  at  all  encouraging.  But  the  train  stand- 
ing in  the  middle  of  the  bridge,  the  silence,  the  unknown, 
the  solitude  which  surrounds  us,  the  river  whose  deep  and 
tremulous  waves  murmur  beneath  our  feet,  and  above  all 
our  ignorance  of  what  is  taking  place  in  front,  and  what 
awaits  us  at  the  station :  is  not  all  this  enough  to  disquiet  us? 

Tired  of  this  suspense,  I  decide  to  get  out  of  the  car. 
Strakosch,  Madame  Amalia  Patti,  and  myself  direct  our 
steps  towards  the  station,  which  we  are  assured  is  only 
a  walk  of  twenty  minutes.  We  find  at  the  entrance  of  the 
depot  piles,  nay  mountains  of  trunks,  encumbering  the  way. 
One  of  the  mountains  has  been  tunnelled  by  a  frightened 
locomotive.  Disembowelled  trunks  disgorge  their  contents, 
which  charitable  souls  gather  up  with  a  zeal  more  or  less 
disinterested.  The  conductor  points  out  to  me  as  a  pick- 
pocket, an  elegantly  dressed  young  man  moving  quietly 
around  with  his  hands  behind  his  back. 

What  luck!  I  have  just  caught  a  glimpse  of  my  two 
pianos — ^the  cowardly  mastodon^— (Chickering  forgive  me !) 
snugly  lying  in  a  comer  and  in  perfect  health.  These  two 
mastodons  w^hich  Chickering  made  expressly  for  me,  fol- 
low me  in  all  my  peregrinations.  The  tail  of  these  mon- 
ster pianos  measures  three  feet  in  width.    Their  length  is 

18* 


210  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

ten  feet;  they  have  seven  and  a  half  octaves,  and  with  the 
whole  of  this  formidable  appearance  possess  a  charming 
and  obedient  docility  to  the  least  movement  of  my  fingers. 
Chickering  Sons  (Chickering,  the  father,  the  founder  of 
this  great  house,  has  been  dead  for  some  years)  have,  by 
their  labour  and  constructive  talent,  given  for  some  time 
past  an  immense  impulsion  to  the  manufacture  of  pianos. 
Their  manufactories  at  Boston  turn  out  forty-two  pianos  a 
week!  Five  hundred  workmen  are  constantly  employed  in 
them.  The  later  instruments,  constructed  on  new  models  of 
their  own  invention,  rival,  if  they  do  not  surpass  the  finest 
European  pianos. 

I  acknowledge  my  heart  beat  at  the  idea  of  leaving  these 
two  brave  companions  of  my  life  exposed  to  the  chances  of 
a  bombardment  or  an  attack  by  assault.  Poor  pianos ! 
Perhaps  to-morrow  you  will  have  lived  !  You  will  prob- 
ably serve  to  teed  the  fine  bivouac  fire  of  some  obscure 
Confederate  soldier,  who  will  see  with  an  indifferent  eye 
your  harmonious  bowels  consumed  without  any  regard  for 
the  three  hundred  concerts  which  you  have  survived  and 
the  fidelity  with  which  you  have  followed  me  in .  my 
western  campaigns. 

The  city  expects  to  be  attacked  every  moment.  Three 
thousand  persons  are  at  work  throwing  up  entrenchments. 
The  clergy  (many  hundred  persons),  in  a  meeting  which 
took  place  on  this  subject,  have  placed  themselves  at  the 
disposition  of  the  Governor,  to  be  employed  for  the  defence 
of  the  city.  Priests,  pastors,  rectors,  ministers  of  all 
denominations,  are  at  this  moment  engaged  in  wheeling 
barrows  full  of  earth  and  in  digging  pits  for  the  sharp- 
shooters. The  State  of  I^ew  Jersey  is  to  send  this  evening 
two  or  three  regiments  of  militia.  New  York  also  fur- 
nishes her  contingent.  The  Seventh  Regiment  of  the 
National  Guards  is  already  on  the  way.  This  regiment, 
whose  fine  discipline  Prince  Napoleon  so  much  admired,  is 
composed  of  young  men  of  the  aristocracy  of  the  imperial 
city.  Many  other  regiments  of  volunteers  are  soon  to 
follow.  Everybody  here  except  women  and  children  ap- 
pear disposed  to  fight.  The  disbanded  oflicers  and  men 
of  the  last  nine  months'  levies  have  met  and  re-formed 
their  old  regiments* 


SENSATIONAL  NEWS.  211 

2  P.  M.  A  battery  of  artillery  passes  at  full  gallop. 
We  are  crushed  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd.  Jones's  Hotel 
is  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off.  If  umerous  groups  stand  before 
the  telegraph  office.  The  rebels,  the  despatches  announce, 
are  eighteen  miles  off.  All  the  shops  are  closed,  and  most 
of  the  houses  from  the  garret  to  the  cellar. 

"Decidedly  our  concert  is  done  for!"  exclaims  in  a  piteous 
voice  my  poor  Strakosch,  who  has  just  returned  from  a 
voyage  of  discovery.  The  reflection  is  a  rather  late  one, 
and  proves  that  my  excellent  friend  and  agent  is  a  hopeful 
youth,  and  trusts  to  the  last,  like  Micawber,  that  some- 
thing will  *  turn  up.' 

The  hotel  is  overrun  by  a  noisy  crowd,  in  which  I 
recognize  manv  Ifew  York  reporters,  sent  in  haste  by  the 
great  journals  m  the  hope  of  furnishing  their  readers  with 
sensational  news.  Sensational  news  is  a  new  svnonyme  for 
'a  canard.'  The  three  pretended  captures  of  Charleston, 
and  that  of  Vicksburg,  a  year  ago,  the  death  of  Jefferson 
Davis,  and  so  many  other  canards  have  been  very  ingenious 
combinations  of  the  newspapers,  and  thanks  to  which,  by 
causing  the  sale  of  many  millions  of  *  bulletins,'  they  have 
realized  enormous  profits.  Unfortunately  everything  w^ears 
out  in  this  world,  and  credulity  is  so  deadened,  that  now 
everything  is  doubted.  I  hear  some  people  around  me  who 
assert  that  the  rebels  have  never  stirred  from  their  general 
quarters  on  the  Potomac.  This  is  going  too  far.  A  rich 
merchant  of  the  city,  who  was  riding  out  this  morning  in 
his  equipage  drawn  by  two  splendid  horses,  was  made 
prisoner  by  the  Confederate  vedettes.  His  horses  and 
carriage  were  seized,  and  he  was  not  released  until  he  had 
sworn  not  to  make  any  remarks  on  what  he  had  seen  in 
the  rebel  camp,  I  have  just  spoken  to  him.  The  news- 
papers have  told  the  truth  for  once. 

"  Dinner,  gentlemen !"  A  general  rush  to  the  dining- 
room.  The  notel  is  just  now  literally  invaded.  I  succeed 
with  great  difficulty  in  finding  a  place  at  the  table.  The 
faces  of  the  people  about  me  are  filled  with  alarm.  Out- 
side rumours  are  repeated  in  a  low  voice.  The  poor  blacks 
who  wait  upon  us  look  so  sad  and  suppliant,  that  it  would 
seem  to  me  laughable  if  I  did  not  know  the  horrors  of 
slavery  and  the  fate  reserved  for  the  free  negroes  of  the 


212  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

North  that  fall  into  the  power  of  the  Confederates.  *  The 
rebels!'  These  words  sound  to  them  like  a  funeral  knell. 
The  clamours  of  the  crowd  that  come  to  us  through  the 
open  windows  make  them  tremble  all  over.  The  counte- 
nance of  the  darkest  of  them  (an  old  man)  seems  to  be 
changing  from  the  blackness  of  ebony  to  the  grayness  of 
the  badger,  which  all  know  is  the  case  when  a  negro 
becomes  pale. 

A  long  file  of  labourers  and  workmen,  preceded  by  a 
drum,  pass  under  my  windows;  they  are  going  to  the 
arsenal  to  obtain  arms.  The  Governor,  by  a  proclamation, 
has  promised  them  to  all  citizens  who  shall  present  them- 
selves. In  the  state  in  which  the  city  is  at  present,  if  the 
rebels  think  of  advancing  they  will  take  it  without  its 
being  able  to  make  the  least  resistance.  It  is  true  that  all 
the  citizens  are  under  arms  or  working  upon  the  fortifi- 
cations ;  but  these  fortifications,  thrown  up  m  a  few  hours, 
are  incapable  of  sustaining  an  attack  eh  regle^  and,  in  any 
case,  will  not  be  of  any  use  unless  the  Confederates  give 
time  for  the  defence  to  be  organized. 

I  see  all  along  the  river  great  clouds  of  dust ;  it  is  from 
the  herds  of  cattle  which  the  frightened  farmers  are  driv- 
ing towards  the  mountains,  in  hopes  of  hiding  them  from 
the  rebels.  The  report  spreads  that  a  spy  has  just  been 
arrested.  A  young  man  who  was  working  on  the  fortifi- 
cations was  killed  a  moment  ago  by  falling  from  an  em- 
bankment twenty-four  feet  high.  Great  consternation! 
General  Milroy,  commanding  the  avant-guard  of  the  Fede- 
ral Army,  has  been  defeated ;  his  equipage  is  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  enemy,  and  his  army  routed.  The  officers  of 
his  staff  have  just  arrived. 

A  thousand  absurd  rumours  are  in  circulation.  The  great 
news  for  the  moment  is,  that  McClellan,  who  is  the  idol  of 
the  army,  particularly  since  the  President  has  taken  from 
him  the  command,  arrives  this  evening  to  place  himself  at 
the  head  of  the  Pennsylvania  militia,  to  crush  Lee  and 
proclaim But  I  know  McClellan ;  he  is  thought- 
ful, profound,  and  prudent,  and  will  take  good  care  not 
to  risk,  by  a  hazardous  blow,  the  almost  certain  chances 
which  he  has  of  arriving  at  the  presidential  chair  after 
Lincoln. 


BEA  UREGARD'S  BARBER.  213 

Old  men,  women,  and  children  are  leaving  the  city.  A 
train  left  this  morning  carrying  off  many  thousand  fugi- 
tives. Our  position  in  a  few  hours  has  become  very  critical. 
We  cannot  advance,  and  I  fear  lest  our  retreat  should  be 
cut  off.  A  militia  regiment  passes  at  quick-step;  it  is 
going  to  the  front.  They  are,  for  the  most  part,  young  men 
from  fourteen  to  eighteen  years  old.  They  murmur  greatly 
against  Philadelphia,  which,  being  the  principal  city  in  the 
State  (numbering  six  hundred  thousand  inhabitants),  has 
not  yet  sent  one  regiment  of  its  National  Guards  to  defend 
the  seat  of  government,  while  the  distant  States  of  New 
Jersey,  New  York,  and  even  Rhode  Island,  have  already 
fifteen  or  twenty  thousand  men  on  the  road  for  Harrisburg 
and  the  valley  of  the  Cumberland. 

A  train  leaving  in  an  hour  for  Philadelphia,  we  run  to 
the  station.  Strakosch  will  remain  behind  to  search  for 
our  trunks,  which  have  been  missing  these  two  hours.  M y 
tuner  has  lost  his  head ;  the  two  mastodons  of  Chickering  s 
have  disappeared,  and  the  express  company  declines  to  be 
responsible  for  them.  Too  obstinate  Strakosch,  why  in  the 
world  did  he  make  us  come  to  Harrisburg ! 

Harrisburo,  June  16. 

I  have  lately  learned  from  an  ex-officer  of  Beauregard's 
(now  retired  from  the  army)  that  the  latter  has  for  his  bar- 
ber and  factotum  a  younff  Spaniard,  who  is  attached  to  him 
and  follows  him  everywhere.  By  the  most  singular  coin- 
cidence, this  is  no  other  than  Hamon^  the  little  gitano  that, 
when  quite  a  child,  I  adopted  in  Spain,  and  that  some  of 
my  friends  will  remember  to  have  seen  in  his  picturesque 
Andalusian  dress,  when  some  years  ago  I  arrived  in  New 
York. 

I  met  him  in  1851,  half  naked,  running  the  streets  of 
Valladolid,  and  making  little  wax  figures.  He  was  dying 
with  hunger,  and  not  wishing  to  asks  alms,  he  oftered  to 
the  passers  by  the  simple  products  of  his  art.  He  was  seven 
years  old.  Abandoned,  he  said,  by  his  parents,  the  poor 
child  had  forgotten  even  the  name  of  the  town  in  which  he 
was  bom,  and  only  remembered  the  harsh  treatment  which 
he  suffered  from  his  father,  a  aitano  (gypsy),  like  himself. 
Attracted  by  his  intelligent  look,  I  adopted  him.     At  the 


214  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

end  of  some  weeks,  Ramon  was  transformed,  thanks  to  a  com- 
plete majo  costume  which  I  had  made  for  him,  and  thanks 
also  to  that  happy  thoughtlessness  of  childhood,  which  for- 
gets the  troubles  of  the  evening,  and  conceals  with  a  golden 
veil  the  darkness  of  the  morrow.  He  accompanied  me  for 
eighteen  months  through  all  my  travels  in  Spain.  Ramon 
soon  became  celebrated.  His  '  Gracia,'  his  '  Sal  Andaluza,' 
the  history  of  his  adoption,  and  his  embroidered  leggings, 
made  a  little  hero  of  him.  The  Queen  asked  to  see  him, 
and  as  a  faithful  hidalgo^  he  had  the  honour  of  presenting 
to  her  majesty  his  chef-d'cBUvre^  Q,\\it\Q  waxen  bulL^  in  which' 
he  had  displayed  all  the  resources  of  his  talent,  and  which 
dazzled  less  by  the  exactitude  of  its  contour,  than  by  the 
originality  of  its  pose.  I  even  think  I  remember  that  this 
bull  was  grotesque,  but  as  Ramon  had  the  faith  which  saves 
in  art  as  m  other  things,  I  presided  gravely  at  the  presen- 
tation to  his  sovereign  of  the  work  of  my  protege,  and 
perhaps  the  poor  boy  still  flatters  himself  every  morning, 
m  shaving  his  general,  with  the  intoxicating  illusion  that 
his  bull  ornaments  one  of  the  galleries  ol  the  'Alcazar 
Royal.' 

Recalleii  to  France,  I  embarked  at  Cadiz  for  Marseilles. 
The  vessel  putting  in  at  Almeria,  we  landed,  Ramon  and  I. 
Arrived  at  the  Plaza  de  Armas,  my  attention  was  attracted 
by  a  Bohemian  (gypsy),  who  persevered  in  following  us  for 
some  time  and  attentively  observing  Monsieur  Ramon.  All 
at  once  thev  flew  into  each  others'  arms ;  '  Dios  mio,' '  Vir- 
gin Maria  I'  It  is  my  brother !  it  is  thou !  just  as  at  the 
theatre,  and  there  they  are  still  embracing.  "  Senor,"  said 
Ramon  to  me  with  an  expression  which  did  little  honoul*  to 
his  patriotic  feelings  and  in  which  I  saw  less  of  tenderness 
than  of  fear,  "  Senor,  I  know  the  houses ;  it  is  here  where 
my  '  padre'  beat  me  so  much."  The  crowd,  drawn  by  this 
touching  scene,  commenced  with  that  kindness  for  strangers 
which  characterizes  the  people  of  Andalusia  to  murmur 
loudly  against  'My  Lord'  (everything  in  Andalusia  which 
is  not  Spanish  is  English  or  French)  who  wished  to  sepa- 
rate a  child  from  its  lawful  guardians. 

They  made  Ramon  understand  that  he  had  nothing  to 
fear,  that  he  was  at  home,  that  I  had  no  more  right  over 
him ;  but  the  poor  little  fellow,  little  reassured  by  the  idea 


FATHER  RAMON.  216 

of  again  finding  the  paternal  tent,  and  frightened  at  the 
perspective  of  the  enchantments  of  nomad  life,  whose  for- 
gotten souvenirs  were  now  opening  before  his  eyes  with 
menacing  brightness,  the  poor  little  fellow  said,  clinging 
to  me,  more  dead  than  alive,  "Senor,  per  Dios,  no  me 
deje  vol."  (For  the  love  of  God,  Senor,  do  not  forsake  me.) 
That  did  not  appear  to  be  the  wish  of  the  crowd ;  as  the 
cries,  "Let  us  call  the  alcalde;  to  prison  with  the  kidnapper 
of  children !"  made  themselves  heard.  I  endeavoured  to 
make  an  explanation.  "  ^o  a  la  caroel."  I  must  refer  it  to 
the  decision  of  Senor  Corregidor,  and  here  we  are  on  the 
way,  I  at  the  head,  Eamon  Imnging  on  to  my  greatcoat,  and 
the  crowd  pressing  on  my  heels.  The  Corregidor  was  fortu- 
nately an  honest  man.  He  had  heard  me  in  Madrid. 
"  Ma  foi,"  he  said  to  me,  "I  can  do  nothing  in  this  matter ; 
the  child  has  a  father,  it  is  for  him  to  decide."  His  father, 
after  having  been  a  horse  dealer  at  fairs,  some  years  since 
joined  con  amove  the  armed  contrabandists. 

Having,  at  the  moment  when  he  had  brought  one  of  his 
commercial  operations  to  a  happy  conclusion,  met  a  refrac- 
tory custom-house  officer,  he  nad  very  gently  dispatched 
him  with  a  blow  of  a  '  Nayaja.' 

The  knife  was  found  near  the  corpse,  Father  Ramon 
was  arrested,  confessed,  and  had  just  been  condemned  to  be 
'garroted,'  that  is  to  say  strangled  fthe  punishment  still 
used  in  Spain).  He  was  in  a  ceU  on  tne  ground  floor  of  the 
'Carcel  publica.'  Without  taking  the  trouble  of  entering 
the  prison,  the  Corregidor,  who  had  wished  me  well,  took 
charge  of  the  negotiation,  and  as  Ramon,  myself,  and  the 
crowd  (now  the  entire  town)  had  followed,  explained  to 
him  the  state  of  affairs — the  windows  of  the  cell  walled  up 
to  the  height  of  six  feet  terminated  by  an  iron  grating, 
which,  while  it  permitted  the  light  to  enter,  prevented  the 
prisoner  from  seeing  out  or  being  seen.  "  A  rich  English- 
man," (!  ? )  shouted  me  Corregidor  to  him, "  has  adopted  your 
son  Ramon.  Will  you  authorize  him  to  take  him  with 
him  into  his  own  country?"  Soon  a  doleful  voice  was 
heard !  "  My  son  Ramon,  the  child  of  my  bowels,  Jesus 
Maria !  Virgin  del  Carmen!  Abandon  him  to  an  English- 
man !  You  cannot  think  of  it,  Senor  Corregidor !"  "  He  is 
right,"  said  the  crowd ;  and  I  avow  I  did  not  know  well 


216  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

what  to  answer.  I  looked  at  Ramon ;  he  had  such  a  pitiful 
countenance,  his  look  was  so  eloquent,  that  I  felt  willing  to 
make  a  last  attempt.  I  desired  the  Corregidor  to  drive  away 
the  crowd  and  permit  me  to  speak  privately  (save  the 
walled  window  between  us)  with  Father  Ramon.  In  short, 
the  result  of  the  consultation  was  that  at  the  end  of  five 
minutes,  the  softened  crowd  could  see  two  hands  issue  be- 
tween the  bars  of  the  window  (absolutely  as  in  the  fine  pic- 
ture of  Paul  Delaroche  representing  Lord  Stafford  when  he 

receives  the  benediction  of in  which  we  perceive 

only  the  hands).  I  got  upon  a  stone,  I  placed  cautiously 
three  dollars  into  one  of  the  extended  hands,  and  I  led  away 
the  son  of  Mr.  Ramon,  who  his  father  declared  he  aban- 
doned to  me  as  my  entire  property.  The  people  applauded, 
felicitated  Ramon,  still  blue  from  fright,  cried  out,  "Viva 
el  Ingles !"  reconducted  me  as  far  as  the  vessel,  and  would 
have  carried  me  in  triumph  if  my  natural  modesty  and  my 
impatient  desire  to  be  rid  of  my  new  friends  had  not  been 
opposed  to  it. 

HABBiSBUBa,  June  16,  4  P.  M. 

The  tocsin  sounds,  the  drums  beat  a  call  to  arms.  Mili- 
tary bands  parade  the  streets,  playing  national  airs ;  the 
national  flag  is  borne  amid  acclamations,  and  produces  an 
indescribable  enthusiasm.  I  detest  war,  but  at  this  moment 
I  feel  as  if  I  should  love  to  be  a  soldier.  Good  God!  what 
does  military  enthusiasm  amount  to  ?  A  little  music,  a 
great  deal  of  noise,  arms  which  glitter  in  the  sun,  and  the 
crowd  who  look  on!  Admirable  simplicity  of  means, 
which  would  appear  providential  to  me,  if  I  did  not  re- 
member that  both  sides  possess  the  same  elements  of  enthu- 
siasm, crowd,  sun,  and  noise,  and  consequently  the  same 
sources  of  heroism. 

On  which  side  is  the  truth?  Which  are  the  martyrs? 
"Which  are  the  executioners?  Jefferson  Davis  decrees 
thanksgiving  to  the  Almighty  for  the  manifest  protection 
which  he  gives  to  the  Confederate  arms;  Lincoln  orders 
public  prayers  to  ask  of  God  continuance  of  his  favour  to 
the  glorious  starry  flag,  symbol  of  justice  and  of  civiliza- 
tion; it  is  in  the  name  of  outraged  liberty  that  the  Govern- 
ment at  Richmond  demands  the  national  independence  of 


FLIGHT  AT  HARRISBURG.  217 

the  South,  and  inflames  the  ardour  of  its  troops  in  the 
name  of  the  same  liberty  which  at  Washington  electrifies 
the  population  of  the  I^orth,  and  puts  on  foot  an  army  of  a 
million  men  to  repulse  the  pretensions  of  the  South.  Both, 
penetrated  by  the  sanctity  of  their  cause,  cut  each  other's 
throats  in  emulation  of  one  another,  and  die  like  heroes ! 
Moral :  man  is  a  machine  more  nervous  than  thoughtful, 
a  voltaic  pile  clothed  with  flesh,  which  gives  sparks  and 
shocks  when  we  know  how  to  heat  it.  It  does  not  belong 
to  me  to  touch  here  these  great  questions,  in  order  to  resolve 
them,  or  to  mix  myself  in  the  troubles  that  disturb  my 
unhappy  country.  I  have  my  opinions,  but  they  matter 
little.  What  was  I  thinking  of,  to  go  and  throw  myself 
among  the  briers  of  politics  ?  When  I  give  my  pen  license 
it  runs  at  random  and  does  a  thousand  foolish  things,  like 
a  female  parrot  let  loose  in  a  guava  tree. 

One  train  leaves  at  five  o'clock,  another  left  at  two 
o'clock.  I  doubt  if  the  one  which  is  promised  us  can  ac- 
commodate the  constantly  increasing  crowd  of  four  or  five 
thousand  persons  which  presses  into  and  around  the  station. 
Litters  are  provided  for  the  sick,  many  are  occupied  by 
wounded  soldiers,  who  will  not  be  left  here.  Immense 
trains  of  merchandise  continue  to  arrive.  The  panic  in- 
creases. It  is  no  longer  a  flight,  it  is  a  flood, — a  general 
sauve  qui  pent  It  would  seem,  seeing  the  precipitation 
with  which  the  inhabitants  abandon  their  city,  that  the 
rebels  were  already  in,  sight.  Trunks,  boxes,  bundles  of 
clothes,  furniture,  mattresses,  kitchen  utensils,  and  even 
pianos,  a^*e  piled  pell-mell  on  the  road. 

Carriages,  carts,  chariots,  indeed  all  the  vehicles  in  the 
city  have  been  put  in  requisition.  The  poor  are  moving  in 
wheelbarrows.  A  trader  has  attached  to  his  omnibus, 
already  full,  a  long  file  of  spring  carts,  trucks,  buggies, 
whose  owners  had  probably  no  horses,  and  drags  them  along 
to  the  great  displeasure  of  his  team,  which  sweat,  froth, 
andfall,  under  the  increased  weight  of  the  load.  A  long  con- 
voy comes  in  with  ten  locomotives  in  front.  It  brings  can- 
nons, caissons,  and  many  steam-engines  in  course  of  construcr 
tion,  which  have  been  sent  to  Hamsburg  to  prevent  their  fall- 
ing into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  The  confusion  is  at  its 
height.  Cattle  bellowing,  frightened  mules,  prancing  horses, 
19 


218  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

the  noisy  crowd,  the  whistling  locomotives,  the  blinding 
dust,  the  burning  sun.  "  Voyes  vous  d'ici  le  tableau?"  (Do 
you  see  here  the  picture  ?)  as  Valsin  said  in  '  Ma  tante 
Aurore.'  Ah,  imprudent  Strakosch,  what  business  had  you 
in  this  cursed  place  ? 

The  station  is  full  of  locomotives.  I  have  counted  thirty 
at  a  time.  They  look  frightened  like  those  around  them. 
Puffing,  out  of  breath,  rushing  forward,  striking  and  bel- 
lowing at  each  other — ^I  seemed  to  see  a  horrible  troop  ojf 
anteduuvian  animals  flying  before  a  geological  flood. 

The  train  leaves  in  a  few  moments ;  it  consists  of  eight 
or  nine  cars,  in  which  are  piled  at  least  two  thousand  per- 
sons. We  are  like  herrings  in  a  barrel.  The  women  are 
sitting  on  each  other,  the  men  all  standing,  and  the 
children  are  eveiywhere :  not  one  inch  of  room  which  is 
not  occupied.  We  are  dying  from  thirst;  the  heat  is  in- 
tolerable. Remember  that  i  have  already  made  to-day  a 
journey  of  seven  hours  and  a  half,  and  that  from  here  to 
Philadelphia  there  is  as  much  more,  and  you  may  under- 
stand how  I  curse  my  gallantry  which  has  just  led  me  to 
five  my  seat,  which  by  force  of  perseverance  and  audacity 
had  succeeded  in  capturing,  to  a  young  lady.  She  (the 
young  lady)  did  not  even  look  at  me ;  obeying  in  this  a 
wide-spread  error  in  the  United  States  among  the  ladies 
(not  one  of  my  female  friends  has  ever  been  willing  to 
acknowledge  it),  which  consists  in  believing  themselves 
exempted  from  all  humane  considerations  towards  the 
person  not  introduced  to  them,  and  regards  as  an  impre- 
scriptible right  what,  taken  altogether,  is  only  the  result 
of  voluntary  homage.  Of  the  thousand  ladies  to  whom  in 
my  travels  I  have  given  my  place,  or  for  whom  I  have 
lowered  a  window,  or  paid  the  conductor,  or  offered  my 
hand  to  get  down,  I  have  set  down  in  my  pocket-book  that 
seven-eighths  of  them  have  prudently  abstained  from 
thanking  me.  Up  to  the  time  that  I  read  TroUope  on  the 
United  States,  I  had  attributed  this  reserve  to  an  exception 
made  in  my  favour,  and  I  cursed  my  evil  star  which  had 
condemned  me  to  the  deprivation  of  the  charming  smile 
which  is  the  ordinary  reward  the  weaker  sex  pays  to  the 
ruder.  The  little  marks  of  deference  of  which  I  have 
just  spoken,  I  have  since  learned  from  TroUope,  are  the 


*  LAST  VESTIGE  OF  CHIVALRY.  219 

same  prerogatives  that  all  my  brothers  of  the  ruder  sex 
enjoy. 

Gallantry,  the  ladies  should  not  forget,  no  longer  grows 
on  earth  as  in  the  days  of  chivalry;  it  is  the  last  vestige  of 
an  epoch  when  many  things  were  believed  in  which  are 
since  dead  ;  it  is  to-day  a  delicate  flower,  a  hot-house  plant 
which  would  die  if  it  was  refused  the  fecundating  rays  of 
their  smiles.  But  it  is  two  o'clock  in  the  morning.  We  are 
at  Philadelphia.  Fifteen  hours  and  a  half  of  railroad  in 
one  day,  without  counting  our  emotions ! 

The  devil  take  the  poets  who  dare  to  sing  the  pleasures 
of  an  artist's  life. 

June  17,  1863. 

Left  Philadelphia  at  6  P.  M.  for  New  Brunswick.  We 
are  stopped  on  the  road  for  three  hours ;  it  is  eleven  and 
a-half  o  clock.  We  are  stationary.  The  road  having  only 
one  line,  we  are  obliged  to  wait  on  a  turn-out  for  a  convoy 
of  soldiers  who  left  New  York  at  six  o'clock  and  are  to 
pass  us  at  this  station.  It  is  probable  that  an  accident  has 
happened  to  it.  In  the  mean  time  it  looks  as  if  we  are 
to  pass  the  night  here.  Our  locomotive  has  left  us  on  a 
voyage  of  discovery. 

July  13. 

Concert  at  New  London  to-day.  The  drawing  for  re- 
cruits has  begun.  That  which  was  feared  is  now  being 
realized:  the  lower  class  —  the  Irish  —  resist.  The  tele- 
graph has  just  announced  to  us  that  they  have  set  fire  to 
the  buildings  where  the  drawings  take  place.  They  are 
armed.  The  authorities  have  ordered  out  the  regular 
troops  now  encamped  at '  Morris's  Island'  to  march  to  New 
Yort .  immediately.  Blood  will  flow.  The  insurgents 
having  taken  up  the  rails  on  the  railroad  for  several  miles, 
the  communications  are  interrupted. 

July  14. 

The  railroad  bridge  at  Harlem  has  been  burned  by  the 
rioters.  The  news  travels  a  long  way  round  to  reach  us. 
The  '  Tribune'  oflSce  has  been  burned  to  the  foundations ; 
the  artillery  is  in  the  streets. 


220  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

July  14. 

I  found  on  my  piano  (as  it  always  is  at  every  concert)  a 
charming  basket  of  flowers.  Almost  all  my  pieces  were 
encored.  After  the  last  piece,  an  old  gentleman  came 
forward  and  made  a  speech,  thanking  me,  in  the  name  of 
the  audience,  for  the  pleasure  which  I  had  given  them. 
He  oifered  me  a  serenade  by  the  military  band  of  the  fort, 
which  he  commands. 

FlTCHBUBGH,  JuljT  15. 

Charming  country,  surrounded  by  mountains.  The 
houses  are  built  on  steep  declivities.  The  hotel  is  called 
'Fitchburgh  House.'  At  the  hour  for  commencing  the 
concert,  the  heavens,  which  had  been  cloudy  all  day,  opened 
and  poured  down  cataracts  of  rain;  the  streets  were  a  foot 
deep  in  mud.  Notwithstanding  this  we  had  a  respectable 
audience,  and  I  was  enthusiastically  encored. 

Nashua,  July  16. 

Pretty  little  town,  like  all  those  of  New  England,  hidden 
like  a  nest  in  the  midst  of  the  verdure  of  its  gardens  and 
of  its  tall  trees.  The  news  of  the  taking  of  Fort  Hudson 
was  received  at  four  o'clock,  with  all  kinds  of  joyful  demon- 
strations. Bells  ring,  explosions  are  heard,  etc.  etc.  A 
certain  Mr.  F.  sent  me  some  verses  in  which  he  compares 
me  to  Apollo. 

Met  in  the  street  three  little  boarding-school  girls  in  a 
buggy,  who  sent  me  kisses. 

Manchesteb,  July  17. 

Manufacturing  town,  in  which  there  is  nothing  remark- 
able. Only  sixteen  tickets  sold,  which  forces  me  to  give 
up  the  concert,  more  particularly  as  Madame  Strakosch 
has  just  telegraphed  me  that  she  dare  not  leave  her  chil- 
dren at  New  1  ork  while  the  riots  continue.  To-morrow  I 
was  to  give  a  concert  at  Portsmouth,  but  the  telegraph  has 
just  transmitted  the  news  of  a  riot.  Decidedly  I  shall 
return  by  way  of  Boston  to  New  York. 


MY  CONCERT  TROUPE.  221 


CHAPTER  XI. 

December,  1863. 

We  are  in  town.  My  company  consists  of  Mademoiselle 
Cordier, prima  donna;  Bri^oli,  tenor;  Carlo  Patti,  vio- 
linist; Behrens,  accompanist;  and  myself.  Also  Max 
Strakosch,  agent  and  impressario;  Ashforth,  tuner,  to 
whom  is  entrusted  the  duty  of  overlooking  the  packing 
and  unpacking  of  mv  pianos.  Marie,  lady's  maid  to  Made- 
moiselle Cordier ;  Emile,  Brignoli's  valet ;  and  Firmin,  my 
confidential  servant,  valet,  major-domo,  secretary,  and  facto- 
tum, who  has  been  for  many  years  iny  '  Alter  ego,'  and 
who  tyrannizes  over  me  with  that  good-natured  familiarity 
which  all  servants  think  they  have  a  right  to  exercise  over 
those  whom  they  have  for  many  years  willingly  taken 
care  of  for  their  master. 

Such  is  the  list  of  names  of  pur 'Concert  Troupe.'  I 
now  come  to  the  members  of  it.  Mademoiselle  Cordier 
is  not  pretty,  but  she  is  French,  that  is  to  say,  has  all  the 
piquant  graces  which  appear  to  belong  to  her  country- 
women. She  has  a  flexible  voice,  which  she  uses  with 
much  art.  She  was  educated  at  the  Conservatoire  de  Paris, 
where  she  took  the  first  prize.  An  excellent  musician 
(vara  avis\  she  can  read  what  she  sings,  and  does  not  pos- 
sess the  gift  accorded  to  almost  all  Italian  singers,  of  not 
learning  until  after  having  been  taught,  like  a  canary  bird 
on  the  oird  organ,  for  many  years.  Her  maid  is  a  young, 
thin,  sentimental  German,  who  paints  fiowers,  is  always 
asleep,  is  very  ugly,  and  professes  an  absolute  aversion  for 
the  duties  of  the  toilet. 

Brignoli  is,  as  you  already  know,  one  of  the  most  seduc- 
tive tenors  that  can  be  imagined.  His  voice,  which  reminds 
me  of  Mario's,  has  a  marvellous  purity.  His  servant  Emile 
is  an  old  sailor  who  reads  Renan's  '  Life  of  Jesus,'  and  is 
enraptured  with  the  beauties  of  his  style.    Behrens  is  a 

19* 


222  NO  TES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

young  German  from  Hamburg,  who  wears  spectacles,  is  a 
good  musician,  and  has  a  good  heart.  He  has  two  weak- 
nesses (who  has  them  not?).  The  first  I  have  to  tell  you, is  to 
make  puns.  He  is  constantly  thinking  (his  note-book  and 
pencil  in  hand)  during  the  concert,  in  the  carriage,  morning, 
evening,  and  after  dinner,  how  he  may  distort  a  word  to 
make  a  pun  on  it.  His  second,  is  being  a  fervent  disciple 
of  Brillat-Savarin.  Behrens,  in  every  little  place,  finds 
means  to  have  delicacies  prepared  for  himself.  We  have 
made  him  superintendent  of  provisions,  and  he  overlooks 
the  netting  up  of  our  meals  when  we  arrive  at  a  hotel. 
Ashferth,  a  tall,  phlegmatic  American,  looks  after  the 
pianos  with  the  same  love  that  an  English  coachman  looks 
after  his  horses.    He  is  the  best  tuner  I  know. 

Strakosch,  my  agent,  impressario,  and  friend,  a  fine  fel- 
low, is  active  as  he  alone  can  be.  Devivo,  second  agent,  is 
a  ^Neapolitan,  has  an  excellent  heart,  and  loves  me  very 
much ;  and  finally  Levy,  a  young  Englishman,  third  agent, 
w^ith  a  very  lar^e  nose,  a  ffood  fellow,  a  worker,  poor  but 
honest,  and  on  the  road  to  become  a  first-class  agent. 

We  are  a  blessing  to  hotel  proprietors,  whose  purses  we 
fill,  and  for  whom  we  are  also  an  excellent  advertisement, 
as  the  newspapers  never  fail  to  mention  the  hotel  where  we 
put  up. 

December  28. 
A  TEMPEST  OF  SNOW. 

After  having  given  two  concerts  at  Chicago,  I  left  for 
Rockford  (five  hours  of  railroad  from  Chicago},  where  I 
am  to  give  a  concert  by  myself  this  evening,  i  ha(i  sent 
the  rest  of  my  company  to  Racine  (four  hours  of  railway 
from  Chicago)  to  give  also  a  concert  witliout  me;  my 
name  being  sufiSciently  powerful  at  Rockford  to  enable  me 
to  get  an  audience  without  the  aid  of  my  companions,!  take 
advantage  of  it.  On  their  part  they  cannot  fail  to  draw 
the  crowd,  and  thanks  to  this  strategic  manoeuvre  I  shall 
obtain  a  double  financial  result  without  mcreasing  my  exr 
penses  or  losing  time.  To-morrow  I  must  leave  Rockford, 
and  they  Racine,  in  order  for  us  to  join  each  other  at  Mil- 
waukee (Wisconsin),  where  a  concert  is  to  be  ^iven  in  the 
evening  by  our  whole  company.    The  cold  is  excessive. 


AMERICAN  WOMEN.  223 

At  Rockford  the  snow,  which  has  been  falling  uninter- 
ruptedly for  two  days,  is  one  foot  and  a  half  deep  in  the 
streets.  The  sky  at  this  moment  is  clear  and  the  air  pure. 
The  thermometer  which,  until  now,  was  about  eischteen  de- 
grees below  zero,  begins  to  go  down.  Rockford  (Illinois)  is 
a  very  pretty  town  of  one  Siousand  souls,  flourisnin^  as  do 
all  the  Western  towns.  It  possesses  three  seminaries  for 
young  ladies,  which  I  think  ought  to  furnish  this  evening 
for  the  concert  a  contingent  of  five  hundred  persons. 
Young  ladies'  seminaries  in  all  the  small  interior  towns  of 
the  West  are  the  soul  of  a  certain  class  of  concerts.  The 
desire  for  cultivating  the  mind  and  purifying  the  taste  is 
an  imperative  necessity  among  American  women  which  I 
have  never  found  in  so  high  a  degree  in  any  other  race. 
The  liberty  which  they  enjoy  in  the  United  States,  and 
which  would  frighten  European  mothers,  far  from  injuring 
the  development  of  those  exquisite  qualities  which  charac- 
terize their  sex,  adds,  on  the  contrary,  to  the  allurements  of 
beauty,  and  vests  a  fund  of  confidence  in  their  own  strength 
and  a  maturity  of  intelligence  which  guard  them  moreiu- 
fallibly  than  the  anxious  and  suspicious  solicitude  with 
which  a  European  education  surrounds  them.  Here  they 
are  the  sole  guardians  of  their  innocence  and  safety ;  and 
while  I  am  far  from  thinking  that  they  do  not  slip  at  times 
from  the  abuse  of  it  (perfection  is  not  of  this  world),  I 
do  not  hesitate  to  give  the  preference  to  our  system.  Our 
young  ladies  are  responsible  to  their  conscience  and  enter 
into  marriage  fortified  by  a  practical  sense  which,  in  taking 
from  them  a  little  of  that  unhealthy  and  sickly  sentimen- 
tality of  young  European  girls,  prepares,  them  for  the 
realities  of  life.  The  young  European  girl — ignorant  of 
everything,  and  not  maide  accountable  by  the  long  childish 
tutelage  which  has  been  imposed  upon  her — slips,  stum- 
bles, mils,  without  knowing  it;  if  she  escapes  the  perilous 
passages,  she  offers  to  her  husband  a  frivolous  compan- 
ion, a  '  Dora,'  that  is  to  say,  a  pretty  plavthing,  but  cer- 
tainly incapable  of  assisting  and  sustaining  him  in  his 
troubles. 

The  snow  has  ceased  falling.  I  sink  into  it  knee-deep. 
The  pianist  of  the  town,  a  professor,  has  just  offered  me 
his  services,  and  proposes  a  sleigh-ride.    I  confess  that  the 


224  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

sleiffh-ride  in  itself  is  very  pleasant,  and  I  should  be  very 
fond  of  this  kind  of  locomotion  if  it  could  be  used  in  sum- 
mer, but  winter  being  a  condition  *  sine  qua  norC  for  sleigh- 
ing I  cannot  find  any  compensation  in  it  for  the  cruel 
sensations  which  I  suffer  from  the  wind,  which  cuts  my 
fingers,  nose,  and  lips,  and  leaves  me  just  enough  heat  to 
enable  me  to  feel  my  sufferings. 

The  cold  freezes  me,  soul  and  body.  The  snow  reminds 
me  of  death.  Besides  the  wind,  the  sharp  particles  of  snow 
which  stick  into  the  skin — ^is  it  not  terrible  ?  Does  not  even 
Nature  herself  die  in  the  presence  of  winter  ?  The  leafless 
trees  affect  me  towards  evening,  with  their  naked  branches, 
cutting  the  distant  horizon,  like  a  band  of  skeletons,  that 
begins  a  Macahre-like  dance.  Where  are  the  birds  ?  Where 
are  the  flowers?  Where  is  the  sun?  I  hate  winter,  for  it 
gives  me  pain,  but  it  is  the  true  season  for  inspiration. 
When  at  night  the  house  trembles  to  its  foundation,  as  the 
hail  strikes  the  windows  like  a  flock  of  funereal  birds  which 
want  to  get  in — then  is  the  hour  of  inspiration.  Some  find 
then  fantastic  hallucinations;  I  then  hear  the  echo  of  an  in- 
definite and  secret  grief,  found  in  the  depths  of  the  soul  of 
all  men.  True  poesy  is  found  only  in  revery,  in  the  midst 
of  grief,  under  an  inclement  skv.  I  get  irritated  reading 
those  poets  who,  full  throated,  smg  good  wine,  their  radiant 
sun,  their  satisfied  amours,  and  whose  listless  music  is  con- 
tented with  some 

I  should  be  very  glad  to  decline  the  sleigh-ride.  But  the 
good  professor  would  be  offended,  and  I  sacrifice  myself. 
His  vehicle  is  worthy  of  notice ;  it  is  original,  it  is  a  small 
square  box  placed  on  a  buggy  frame,  for  the  wheels  of  which 
two  iron  runners  have  been  substituted.  It  is  primitive, 
original,  but  scarcely  solid.  We  accommodate  ourselves  as 
well  as  we  can  in  this  little  machine,  and  set  out.  The  wind 
increases  and  the  cold  also.  My  neighbour's  nose  is  blue. 
As  for  mine,  I  no  longer  feel  it ;  our  horse,  animated  by 
the  noise  of  the  bells,  flies  rather  than  runs.  We  devour 
space,  we  have  passed  through  the  town  like  a  hurricane, 
and  enter  upon  a  great  road  at  a  tremendous  pace.  At 
every  turn  of  the  road  our  little  box  with  its  contents  flies 
from  the  ground  and  describes  a  quarter  of  a  circle  in  the 
air,  lucki^  it  falls  flat  again,  and  we  stick  in  as  well  as  we 


THE  GERMAN  PROFESSOR.  225 

can.  An  old  blind  mule  has  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the 
road.  Our  speed  is  so  rapid  that  we  cannot  turn  in  time, 
and  we  strike  against  the  poor  beast,  who  sends  a  pair  of 
heels  at  us  without  striking  us.  Half  of  our  box  remains 
behind,  but  there  is  still  enough  to  hold  on  to.  The  horse 
no  longer  obeys  the  reins.  I  begin  to  understand  that  our 
party  of  pleasure  will  end  by  being  thrown  into  a  ditch. 
The  end  of  our  ride  is  a  seminary  for  young  girls,  of  which 
I  begin  to  see  the  roof  and  trees  at  the  end  of  the  road. 

We  arrive  at  the  seminary.  An  old  and  dried-up  lady 
receives  us.  I  am  introduced  to  her ;  she  is  the  directress 
of  the  establishment.  Miss  So  and  So,  Mr.  Gottschalk. 
We  pass  into  the  parlour.  A  gentleman  with  dishevelled 
hair  is  walking  up  and  down,  declaiming  'a  lecture,'  which 
he  has  to  give  this  afternoon  to  the  young  girls.  Uncombed 
head  (I  speak  of  his  exterior),  beard  unshaved ;  type,  genus 
unknown — gold  spectacles.  He  is  a  German  professor  of 
literature,  o^  French,  and  philosophy — ^was  it  necessary  to 
tell  you  that  he  wore  gold  spectacles  ?  Do  not  all  the  Ger- 
mans, musicians  and  savants,  wear  them? 

It  is  a  point  of  transcendental  physiologj^  which  I  leave 
to  the  investigations  of  the  learned,  to  wit:  whether  the 
Germans  who  are  to  become  musicians  are  bom  with  little 
golden  spectacles,  just  as  others  are  bom  with  a  wart  on 
the  nose,  or  whether  this  parasite  is  developed  and  grows 
in  proportion  as  they  plunge  into  the  depths  of  the  science 
of  harmony.  Or  again,  whether  this  appendage  is  an  hon-. 
ourable  badge  and  symbol  which  is  awarded  to  those  who 
have  penetrated  all  the  secrets  hidden  from  vulgar  eyes. 
Finally,  are  the  golden  spectacles  of  the  musical  Germans 
like  the  cane  of  the  Spanish  Alcalde  or  the  switch  of  the 
English  soldier  in  walking,  that  without  which  neither  the 
one  nor  the  other  of  these  immutable  and  invariable  types 
consider  themselves  complete? 

I  visit  the  seminary.  The  pupils  are  engaged  at  their 
studies ;  but  in  the  passages,  on  the  staircase,  in  the  dormi- 
tory, we  meet  young  girls  who,  under  their  little  air  of 
fright  or  indifference,  badly  conceal  their  unruly  curiosity. 
It  is  plain  that  they  know  who  I  am,  and  I  foresee  that  I 
shall  have  to  play  for  these  very  pretty  rude  little  things 
before  leaving.     A  piano  groans  in  an  adjoining  room!  it 


226  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

is  the  >  Maiden's  Prayer.'  How  far  will  this  virginal 
prayer  pursue  me  ?  We  get  again  into  our  square  Tittle 
box,  and  after  another  fantastic  and  giddy  ride,  I  find  myself 
again  (God  be  praised!)  before  my  hotel,  where  the  waiters 
(garyons)  are  girls ;  I  mean  to  say  that  the  servants  are  of 
the  weaker  sex.  These  young  girls  are,  for  the  most  part, 
ugly  and  dirty;  I  suspect  that  they  are  princesses  in  dis- 
guise; their  squeamish  looks,  their  air  of  offended  disunity 
with  which  they  give  me  a  very  small  piece  of  roast  oeef, 
make  me  divine  their  illustrious  origin,  and  fill  me  with 
confusion.    The  silly  Abigails ! 

December  31. 

We  are  again  pursuing  our  journey.  It  continues  to 
snow,  and  from  certain  signs  the  farmers  say  it  will  have 
drifted,  and  will  certainly  have  obstructed  the  road.  Here 
we  are  stopped.  We  must  get  out.  Harvard  is  the  name 
of  the  place  where  the  conductor  tells  us  we  must  get  out. 
It  is  a  small  village  of  five  hundred  inhabitants.  It  would 
be  dangerous  to  proceed  farther  while  the  storm  continues. 
The  thermometer  has  gone  down  to  twenty-five  degrees  be- 
low zero.  We  might  have  been  overtaken  by  the  tempest 
in  the  midst  of  the  prairies,  where  we  should  have  been 
buried  under  the  snow,  ourselves  and  the  whole  train  in  the 
course  of  a  few  hours.  We  have  escaped  a  great  danger 
by  being  able  to  reach  a  station.  We  must  now  endeavour 
.  to  find  lodgings  for  the  few  hours  that  we  remain  here. 
The  tempest  will  doubtless  pass  over  in  the  afternoon,  at 
least  the  conductor  leads  us  to  hope  so.  A  tavern  is  along- 
side of  the  road.  'Harvard  Hotel,  Gayer,  proprietor.'  The 
idea  of  passing  a  day  at  the  Harvard  Hotel  has  nothing 
seductive  in  it.  What  kind  of  rooms,  and,  above  all,  what 
kind  of  dinner,  will  they  give  us? 

Agreeable  surprise!  The  landlord,  a  stout  man,  whom 
his  friends  call  Judge — ^who  has  never  had  such  luck  be- 
fore— conducts  me  to  my  room ;  it  is  very  comfortably  fur- 
nished and  warmed.  A  mahogany  table  covered  with 
tapestry  of  needle-work,  an  album  with  cartes  de  visite 
and  photographs,  and  gilt-edged  books  in  the  prairies  of 
the  extreme  West !  One  thousand  miles  from  New  York! ! 
0  civilization!    Gilt-edge  books  and  French  lithographs 


.      THE  HARVARD  HOTEL.  227 

(Moses  defending  I  know  not  what  woman,  after  a  picture 
by  Schopin),  the  monuments  of  Paris,  and  a  large  volume 
of  maps  on  the  Crimean  War,  written  by  the  commissioners 
sent  out  in  1855  by  his  Excellency  Jefferson  Davis,  then 
Secretary  of  War  of  the  United  States,  which  commission 
was  composed  of  Colonel  Delafield  and  Captain  McClellan 
of  the  Engineers.  These  names  thus  associated  have  a  sin- 
gular effect !  What  a  contrast,  and  what  events  since  the 
illustrious  traitor  occupied  himself  with  so  much  solici- 
tude to  perfect  the  military  science  of  the  Federal  Army 
officers,  and  chose  for  this  purpose  little  Captain  McClellan. 
I  should  have  remained  a  long  time  meditating  on  the 
instability  of  human  affairs  and  on  the  mysteries  which 
the  future  conceals,  if  the  gong  for  dinner  had  not  just 
called  me  to  the  reality  of  things  which  is  much  more 
pleasant  than  revery,  seeing  that  I  am  very  hungry  and 
that  the  dinner  whatever  it  may  be  will  be  vAy  welcome. 
I  do  not  suppose  that  the  Harvard  Hotel  dinner  will  be  a 
Belshazzar's  feast.  Again  a  rash  judgment  and  an  agree- 
able surprise.  After  having  disagreeably  speculated  upon 
what  might  be  the  ordinary  of  this  poor  little  tavern  at  a 
village  of  the  extreme  West,  and  found  a  resigned  consola- 
tion m  my  hunger,  I  went  down  into  the  dining-room  and 
found  it  verj'  clean.  The  thick  linen  table-cloths  are  white, 
the  dishes  and  plates  large,  but  scrupulously  clean,  the 
servants  pretty,  courteous,  and  not  at  all  princesses.  The 
bill  of  fare  for  dinner  would  make  the  mouths  water  of  the 
pseudo-hunters  of  the  plain  of  St.  Denis,  who  are  con- 
demned not  to  taste  venison  but  under  the  equivocal  and 
apocryphal  form  of  steaks  called  roe-buck,  which  the  in- 
dustry of  the  Parisian  restaurateur  has  enabled  him  to 
make  out  of  lamb  kept  preserved  in  vinegar  until  it  gets 
the  taste  of  venison.  Here  they  served  up  to  us  a  quarter 
of  true  roe-buck  marvellously  roasted  with  its  juice;  some 
broiled  venison,  wild  ducks,  and  prairie-chickens;  a  large 
pudding  and  a  glass  of  excellent  ale  ended  this  festival  of 
feelshazzar.  Decidedly  I  submit  to  my  fate.  I' get  again 
into  the  train.  One  hour,  two  hours  glide  by,  and  we  do 
not  start.  There  are  two  stoves  in  the  car,  yet  nevertheless 
the  cold  increases  until  Strakosch's  ears  are  nearly  frozen. 
The  wind  increases,  the  snow  falls  in  avalanches,  we  must 


228  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

{)ass  the  night  at  Harvard.    Unfortunately,  counting  on 
eaving,  I  paid  my  bill  after  dinner,  and  consequently  have 
renounced  all  my  rights  upon  the  room  which  I  have  occu- 

Eied  part  of  the  day^ — it  has  been  immediately  taken.  The 
otel  being  insufficient  to  hold  all  the  passengers  of  the  train, 
a  place  was  first  provided  for  the  women  and  children.  Not 
being  able  to  get  in  under  either  of  these  categories,  I  have 
the  sad  perspective  of  passing  the  night  on  the  floor,  at 
a  temperature  of  twenty-six  degrees  below  zero.  There 
are  fifty  or  sixty  of  us  in  the  same  place.  The  society  is 
not,  as  you  will  understand,  very  select.  It  is  composed  of 
sick  and  disbanded  soldiers,  of  pioneers  from  the  Indian 
frontiers,  peddlers,  of  horse-sellers,  and  ragged  emigrants. 
I  fastened  my  money  in  my  fob,  and  also  my  watch-chain. 
Two  or  three  persons  who  from  their  dress  appeared  to 
belong  to  the  well-to-do  class,  approached  me  and  acquaint- 
ances were  instinctively  made.  In  a  moment  this  colony 
was  divided  into  distinct  groups,  into  little  clans,  which, 
without  being  hostile  to  each  other,  betoken  nevertheless 
that  if  occasion  require  they  would  know  how  to  defend 
themselves  against  the  aggression  of  their  neighbours.  I 
begin  to  think  of  my  comer  for  the  night,  llie  tempest 
roars  outside.  If  you  never  experienced  a  storm  at  sea 
you  cannot  form  any  idea  of  this  upturning  of  nature. 
My  thoughts  turn  to  the  poor  travellers  who  shall  have 
been  surprised  on  the  prairies.  They  will  find  a  certain 
death  there.  The  house  creaks  on  its  foundations.  The 
wind  whistles  lamentably.  Do  you  know  anything  more 
mournful  than  those  ascending  and  descending  chromatic 
scales  which  you  hear  when  the  wind  whistles  through 
the  cordage  of  a  vessel?  It  seems  to  me  I  am  on  board. 
Two  firemen  have  just  entered  with  their  hands  frozen ; 
with  great  trouble  we  succeed  in  restoring  the  circulation. 
It  is  the  first  time  that  I  see  for  myselt  what  I  have  so 
often  read  of  in  the  history  of  voyages  to  the  North  Pole. 
I  have  had  to  give  up  reaching  the  train  where  our  trunks 
are,  which  is  only  some  hundred  paces  off*.  Going  back  at 
every  step,  blind  and  suflFocated  by  the  snow  which  strikes 
the  face  furiously,  I  was  forced  to  return  in  about  five 
minutes  almost  frozen.  They  are  about  to  establish 
guards  on  the  locomotive,  who  will  relieve  each  other 


THE  POSTMASTER.  229 

every  half  hour,  to  keep  up  the  fire,  under  penalty  of  see- 
ing the  water  freeze  in  the  boiler,  and  then  adieu  to  leaving 
to-morrow.  The  country,  which  I  see  in  the  twilight 
through  the  windows  obscured  by  the  ice,  is  frightfully 
sad.  An  illimitable  meadow,  which  in  summer  is  doubtless 
an  ocean  of  verdure,  but  which  now  presents  to  the  eye 
only  a  desert  of  snow  which  is  lost  in  the  distant  horizon. 
The  hardened  snow,  masses  of  which  fall  with  a  dull  rum- 
bling noise  from  the  roof  of  the  house,  and  the  roaring  of 
the  tempest,  drive  one  to  despair  with  sadness.  I  write 
my  journal  to  combat  sad  thoughts  which  besiege  me. 

Poor  Strakosch,  after  two  hours  of  superhuman  effort, 
has  come  back  from  the  telegraph  station,  from  whence  he 
sent  a  despatch  to  Milwaukee,  explaining  our  position ;  I 
doubt  if  it  arrives  at  its  destination.  Before  an  hour  the 
wind  and  snow  will  have  torn  down  and  buried  under  ten 
feet  of  snow  all  the  telegraph  wires.  The  thermometer  is 
still  going  down.  The  cold  is  insupportable,  notwithstand- 
ing our  immense  stove  is  getting  red-hot  and  its  jaws  flam- 
ing with  trunks  of  trees.  A  cattle  train  is  stopped  some 
distance  from  the  tavern.  We  hear  the  bellowing  of  the 
poor  beasts  in  the  midst  of  the  snow.  They  will  probably 
perish  by  the  cold  to-night. 

Max,  by  virtue  of  begging,  has  obtained  a  bed  at  the 
postmaster's,  whose  house  is  separated  from  ours  only  by 
a  small  garden.  It  is  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening.  We  have 
just  supped  on  venison  and  a  cup  of  tea.  •  I  wished  to  go 
to  my  lodgings,  but  the  tempest  is  so  violent  that  I  have 
not  been  able  to  make  the  twenty-five  paces  that  separate 
the  house  from  the  post-oflice.  The  darkness  is  profound. 
Assisted  by  Firmin  and  Strakosch  I  again  venture  to  go 
out,  supporting  the  one  the  other ;  thrown  down  at  every 
step  by  the  wind,  covered  with  snow,  and  almost  paralyzed 
with  cold,  we  reach  the  house  of  the  postmaster.  The 
postmaster,  a  tall,  thin,  phlegmatic  American  with  a 
beard  turning  gray,  bids  us  welcome.  The  teakettle  sings 
on  the  lighted  stove.  A  half-open  closet  reveals  the  plates 
and  preserves  of  the  family.  A  large  Bible  on  a  white 
wooden  table,  a  pretty  white  cat  who  purrs  on  her  mis- 
tress's lap,  a  little  girl  of  ten  years,  a  daughter  of  the 
postmaster,  knitting  stockings  alongside  of  her  mother, 
20 


230  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

while  the  latter  washes  the  plates  which  were  used  for 
supper,  all  forms  a  picture  of  neatness,  decency,  and 
peacefulness.  It  is  poverty  but  not  want.  It  comforts  and 
does  not  sadden.  In  Europe  you  cannot  understand  or 
comprehend  the  character  of  the  American  farmers.  The 
orderly  and  respectable  habits  which  characterize  them  are 
too  incompatible  with  the  gross  turbulence  and  brutalizing 
ignorance  of  European  peasants  to  enable  you  to  find  an 
equivalent  to  the  laborious  class  of  American  farmers. 
We  talk  politics  with  the  postmaster  (all  Americans  of 
every  class  understand  in  their  minutest  details  the  political 
history  of  the  United  States).  The  storm  increases  every 
moment;  I  shall  never  be  able  to.  sleep  to-night.  The  cold 
is  so  intense  that  our  clothes  are  stift*  and  creak  as  if  they 
were  paper.  I  wish  you  good-night.  I  go  to  shiver  until 
to-morrow  morning. 

January  1,  1864. 
SNOW  STORM  (the  SEQUEL). 

Although  I  had  passed  the  night  with  all  my  clothes  on, 
with  a  woollen  comforter  around  my  neck,  and  a  fur  cap 
on  my  head,  and  though  I  had  constantly  lain  drawn  up 
under  my  mountain  of  bed-clothes,  I  found  on  awaking 
my  moustaches  covered  with  hoar-frost.  The  thermome- 
ter thirty-two  degrees  below  'zero' !  our  shoes  are  frozen, 
likewise  our  hats,  and  we  are  obliged  to  put  them  under 
the  stove  to  th^  them.  An  old  trapper  assures  us  that  it 
will  be  a  very  rough  winter.  The  muskrats  on  the  Indian 
frontier  have  built  their  cabins  two  stories  high,  he  tells 
us,  and  all  the  trout  have  forsaken  the  rivers  to  gain  the 
deep  water  of  the  lakes.  These  are  signs  which  infalli- 
bly announce  extraordinary  cold  weather.  We  had  with 
us  in  our  car  a  sick  young  soldier.  I  am  anxious  to  learn 
how  he  got  through  the  night.  I  wrap  myself  carefully 
up  in  furs  and  accompanied  by  a  guide  I  seek  the  car  to 
learn  if  we  could  do  anything  to  comfort  this  poor  man. 
He  is  very  feeble  and  young.  He  is  returning  to  his  family. 
I  seek  in  the  village  for  some  one  who  can  take  care  of  him 
until  he  is  cured.  Poor  young  man !  Will  he  ever  again 
see  his  family  ?  By  the  mercy  of  God  there  are  noble 
hearts  in  this  world  of  dollars  and  cents.    I  have  found  a 


THE  FROZEN  HORSE.  281 

young  farmer,  who  undertakes  to  take  care  of  him  gratui- 
tously. The  cattle  have  bravely  supported  this  terrible 
night.  Only  one  horse  is  extended  on  the  ground  to  all 
appearance  frozen!  They  rub  him,  he  is  getting  up  again, 
he  will  probably  recover.  The  engineers  and  firemen  have 
suffered  most.  They  had  to  remain  on  the  engines  all 
night  to  keep  up  the  fire,  or  the  water  in  the  boilers  would 
certainly  have  been  frozen.  No  probability  of  being  able 
to  start,  to-day.  Milwaukee  is  impossible.  I  cannot  even 
return  to  Chicago,  although  the  wind  blows  in  that  direc- 
tion, and  consequently  would  help  us  in  getting  along; 
before  us  the  snow  is  piled  up  into  immense  dritte  which 
render  the  journey  impossible.  We  breakfast.  Before  the 
dining-room  stove  an  enormous  deer  is  stretched  out,  killed 
last  night  at  our  request;  it  will  be  for  our  dinner.  It  has 
the  handsomest  head  that  I  have  seen.  We  have  also  quails. 
They  cost  here  sixty  cents  per  dozen,  and  are  almost  as 
large  as  pigeons.  The  ladies,  I  am  told,  passed  the  night 
in  dancing.  Some  one  found  a  fiddler  in  the  village.  For- 
tunately there  is  no  piano ;  but  for  that  I  should  have  had 
to  play. 


CHAPTER  Xn. 


Adbiav,  Michigan,  January  8,  1864. 

Infamous  concert.  Seventy-eight  dollars ! !  The  people 
say  that  they  prefer  "a  good  negro  show."  They  are 
furious  at  the  price  for  admission — one  dollar. 

A  singular  American  characteristic !  They  insult  us  as 
if  we  forced  them  to  pay. 

In  the  cars  a  gentleman  and  a  lady  are  talking:  "These 
people  are  those  who  exhibited  last  evening."  "  N'o,  they 
belong  to  the  panorama,  which,  in  parenthesis,  must  be  a 
very  handsome  affair  judging  from  the  price  of  admission — 
one  dollar"  (this  is  spoken  with  a  dissatisfied  air). 

One  dollar  admission!  it  is  the  universal  theme.  Every- 
body talks  about  it,  and,  singularly,  it  is  with  animosity,  as 


232  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

if  the  fact  of  putting  on  the  bills  one  dollar  was  sufficient 
to  take  the  price  of  admission  out  of  their  pocket.  It  is 
monstrous ! 

February  22. 

After  having  rested  myself  in  New  York  for  three  weeks, 
I  have  commenced  to-day  (the  anniversary  of  Washington's 
birth)  a  new  series  of  concerts.  After  having  visited  the 
large  towns  of  the  East,  I  think  of  going  to  the  extreme 
West.  I  shall  go  as  far  as  the  Indian  territories.  I  count 
particularly  on  working  up  Minnesota,  and  will  push  on  as 
far  as  Mankato,  the  principal  town  of  the  State,  which  was 
the  theatre  of  the  massacres  committed  by  the  Indians  two 
years  ago.  ' 

I  was  much  applauded  by  the  public  this  evening.  After 
an  encore  I  played  my  fantasia  '  The  Union,'  which  called 
forth  the  most  patriotic  enthusiasm ;  it  arose  from  the  cir- 
cumstance that  it  was  the  birthday  of  Washington,  the 
founder  and  father  of  our  great  republic. 

Bridgeport,  February  23. 

A  pretty  little  town,  two  hours  of  railway  from  New 
York,  the  birthplace  of '  Tom  Thumb'  and  of '  Bamum.' 

February  24. 

Concert  at  New  York.  Crowded.  It  is  the  ninety-fifth 
or  ninety-sixth  concert  that  I  have  given  in  the  city  of 
New  York  within  the  last  year  and  a  naif,  without  count- 
ing at  least  one  hundred  and  fifty  that  I  gave  before  my 
voyage  to  the  Antilles. 

Hartford,  February  25. 

A  handsome  town  in  Connecticut,  four  and  a  half  hpurs 
from  New  York.  Whilst  I  was  in  a  music  store  I  heard 
the  following  conversation: — 

First  lady. — ^"  Are  you  going  to  Gottschalk's  concert  ?" 

Second  lady. — "Yes,  if  I  can  find  a  place  on  the  front 
seat." 

First  lady. — "  It  is  too  near,  the  sound  is  not  so  pure  as 
at  a  distance/' 


BOSTON  AND  PROVIDENCE.  288 

Second  lady, — "I  do  not  care  about  hearing.  I  want  to 
see  his  fingers.     I  know  all  his  pieces." 

First  lady. — "  Ah !    You  play  the  piano  ?" 

Second  lady, — "iVb .'  but  I  have  a  friend  who  plays  them  all 
on  the  guitar.^' 

(The  truth.) 

February  26. 

Concert  at  Boston.  Very  fine  concert.  Boston,  by  a  suf- 
ficiently singular  anomaly,  is  the  city  which  has  contri- 
buted the  most  to  shake  otf  the  yoke  of  the  metropolis,  and 
that  which  has  retained  the  most  English-like  appearance. 
It  is  par  excellence  the  aristocratic  city.  It  pretends  to  be 
the  most  intellectual  in  the  United  States.  It  is  not  to  be 
denied  that  it  has  made  enormous  progress  in  the  sciences 
and  arts.  The  university  at  Cambridge  is  the  most  cele- 
brated in  the  United  States.  Her  poets  are  known  the 
world  over.  She  has  for  eight  years  possessed  the  largest 
organ  in  America.  (It  cost  sixty  thousand  dollars  in  Ger- 
many.) A  musical  amateur  (Mr.  Perkins)  has  presented  to 
the  city  a  statue  of  Beethoven  which  cost  twelve  thousand 
dollars.  It  is  a  beautiful  work  of  art.  Boston  has  six 
theatres  and  three  concert  halls,  two  of  which  can  seat 
thirty-five  hundred  persons.  It  is  in  the  latter  one  of  these, 
the  '  Fremont,'  that  I  gave  my  concerts.  It  is  in  my 
opinion  the  best  for  hearmg  and  the  most  magnificent  eon- 
cert  hall  in  the  world. 

Providence,  February  27. 

Two  hours  from  Boston.  An  aristocratic  city,  and  one 
of  the  oldest  in  the  United  States.  It  was  founded  by  one 
of  the  Puritan  pilgrims  who  emigrated  under  the  Catholic 
King  James  11.,  and  still  preserves  the  rigidity  of  its  foun- 
ders. I  have  a  large  audience.  It  is  the  first  concert 
without  rain  that  I  have  given  in  Providence. 

Near  to  Providence  (at  Newport)  is  the  United  States 
Naval  School,  and  a  naval  station  of  great  importance. 
The  State  of  Rhode  Island  is  the  smallest  State  of  the 
Union. 

20* 


234  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

Sunday,  February  28. 

Betum  at  night  to  Boston.  Sunday — a  day  of  mortal 
ennui!!  Marked  progress  nevertheless.  One  can  now 
smoke  in  the  streets,  and  carriages  can  be  driven.  Two 
Sunday  papers  even  are  published.  Hardly  fifteen  years 
ago  these  three  things  would  have  appeared  like  mon- 
strosities to  the  puritanic  inhabitants  of  Boston. 

An  excellent  musician,  distinguished  violinist,  and  grace- 
ful conaposer  has  resided  for  some  years  at  Boston — 
Julius  Eichberg.  He  is  leader  of  the  orchestra  at  the 
Museum,  and  has  composed  some  comic  operas  which  have 
been  successful. 

This  evening — ^hall  overflowing — all  my  pieces  have 
been  encored.  Played  for  the  first  time  on  Mason's  new 
organs,  which  are  quite  pretty.  He  manufactures  one  hun- 
dred weekly. 

February  29. 

Eeceived  an  invitation  from  the  Institution  for  the 
Blind,  and  Deaf  and  Dumb.  These  poor  creatures  have 
taken  a  great  aflFection  for  me  since  I  invited  them  to  come 
to  all  my  concerts.  They  have  never  missed  one.  They 
sent  me  two  days  ago  some  articles  made  by  them,  baskets 
of  pearl  and  filagree  work,  and  a  letter  written  by  a  young 
girl  deaf^  dumb^  and  blind^  Miss  Laura  Bridgeman.  The 
poor  girl  has  written  *  Grace  be  with  you.'  I  have  been 
really  touched  by  this  gift. 

March  1. 

I  start  in  two  hours  for  Springfield ;  three  hours  from 
Boston.  A  concert  there  this  evening.  The  snow  is  fall- 
ing, and  it  is  very  unpleasant.  Small  audience.  The  stage 
is  slanting  and  the  floor  waxed ;  owing  to  which,  during 
the  finale  of  '  Jerusalem,'  my  chair  slipped  and  slid  as  far 
as  the  foot--lights,  which  left  my  hands  fingering  the  air ! 
To  get  behind  the  scenes,  we  pass  through  a  cul-de-sac, 
then  a  low  door,  a  passage,  then  a  ladder  staircase  which 
ends  at  a  trapdoor  that  we  raise  up,  and  arrive  at  a  little 
room  where  a  tailor  and  his  daughter  are  sewing.  Leave 
at  midnight  for  New  York,  where  we  arrive  at  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning. 


YALE  COLLEGE.  235 

March  2. 

Last  evening,  Miss  Harris,  a  voung  American  prima 
donna,  made  her  debut  in  '  Lucia.  Success :  voice  a  little 
weak,  but  much  intelligence  and  ffreat  facility.  This  even- 
ing, concert  at  Niblo's.  I  play  tne  quatuor  of  Beethoven 
in  E  flat.  The  andante  (which  recalls,  in  the  first  bars, 
'  Batti'  of  Don  Juan)  is  one  of  the  sweetest,  most  tender,and 
brightest  inspirations  of  the  giant  of  Bonn. 

Marcli  3. 

Left  for  New  Haven.  A  charming  city,  where  the  cele- 
brated university,  *  Yale  College,'  is  situated.  The  students 
number  six  hundred.  They  confer  degrees  as  high  as  Dr. 
of  Sciences.  Large  audience  at  the  concert.  Decidedly, 
the  Puritanism  of  New  England  is  rapidily  disappearing 
and  vanishing  away.  The  majority  of  my  audience  is 
composed  this  evenmg  of  Episcopalians,  and  nevertheless 
we  are  in  Lent ! ! ! 

March  4. 

Left  this  morning  for  Stamford,  where  I  play  this  even- 
ing. Arrived  at  half  past  eleven  o'clock  A.  M.  It  is  a 
pretty  town.  There  are  two  large  colleges  for  young  girls, 
who,  without  mistake,  will  be  at  the  concert.  My  tickets 
are  sold  at  the  post-oflice. 

Brignoli,  after  an  absence  from  the  stage  of  nearly  a 
year,  has  made  his  re-appearance  at  the  Academy  of  Music, 
now  under  the  direction  of  Maretzek.  The  opera  selected 
by  this  charming  tenor  was  'I  Puritani.' 

Brignoli  has  been  for  eight  years  the  tenor  par  excellence 
of  New  York  City.  Of  all  the  singers  who  have  appeared 
for  twenty-five  years  on  our  first  lyric  stage,  he  is  tne  only 
one  who  has  succeeded  in.  triumphing  over  the  insatiable 
avidity  of  our  people  for  novelty  and  change.  Mirate, 
Mario,  were  greatly  applauded  when  they  came,  but  hardly 
had  they  left  when  they  were  forgotten,  and  they  have 
turned  again  to  Brignoli  with  more  enthusiasm  than  ever. 
One  of  the  most  charming  of  the  lady  admirers  of  Brignoli 
exclaimed,  on  hearing  Mario  one  evening,  that  the  latter 
had  been  less  adroit  than  ordinary  in  concealing  by  his  art 
and  talents  the  changes  which  time  had  made  on  him ! 


236  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

"  Decidedly,  the  Brignoli  stocks  have  gone  up  fifty  per 
cent,  since  they  have  run  opposition  to  him.  This  is 
characteristic,  and  makes  us  understand  the  importance  of 
the  re-appearance  of  the  tenor  after  two  seasons'  absence — 
during  which  Mazzolini,  the  tenor  engaged  by  Maretzek 
in  1862,  has  gained  ground  in  public  estimation,  and  has 
created  a  powerful  party  among  the  enemies  which  Brig- 
noli's  success  had  raised  against  him.  Mazzolini  is  a  tenor 
'  di  forza ;'  his  voice  is  hard,  hoarse,  and  sometimes  of 
doubtful  justness;  but  he  is  a  very  good  actor,  and,  at 
need,  screams  loud  and  for  a  long  time,  which  always 
pleases  the  bulk  of  the  public,  who  want  it  for  their  money, 
and  are  concerned  more  for  the  quantity  than  for  the 
quality.  Ten  apples  are  worth  more  than  one  pineapple. 
They  are  right  from  their  point  of  view ;  they  have  the 
most  space  in  their  stomach,  and  that  is  probably  the  first 
object  they  have  in  view  when  they  eat. 

'  lone,'  the  detestable  opera  of  Petrella,  has  had  an  un- 
heard-of success,  due  in  part  to  the  play  and  to  the  acting 
of  Mazzolini.  Maretzek,  an  adroit  manager,  has  fathomed 
public  sentiment  and  engaged  Brignoli.  Parties  were  im- 
mediately formed.  The  first  evening  the  Academy  was 
full  from  the  top  to  the  bottom.  Unfortunately,  Brignoli, 
whose  last  trip  with  me  to  the  West  had  a  little  fatigued, 
was  confused.  His  natural  timidity  before  the  public  was 
increased  by  the  sight  of  his  rival,  Mazzolini,  who  from  the 
hall  thrust  at  him  two  enormous  lenses !  Thus  it  is  that 
my  Brignoli  became  paralyzed,  and  has  not  sung  as  he  can 
sing,  that  is  to  say,  in  the  most  charming  manner  in  the 
world.  At  the  second  representation  they  gave  '  Somnam- 
bula,'  and  Brignoli  became  indisposed  after  the  second 
act ;  they  were  forced  to  replace  him  by  Lotti,  a  young 
German  tenor,  who  is  yet  a  substitute,  but  will  soon  be- 
come a  distinguished  star.  It  may  be  said  without  contra- 
diction that  the  entire  audience,  who  were  almost  all 
opponents,  profited  by  the  occasion  to  make  an  ovation  for 
Lotti.  These  small  events  have  kept  the  New  York 
exquisites  in  exercise  for  a  week — human  passions  are  so 
hasty  and  easily  find  a  pretext  to  show  themselves.  The 
evil-disposed  have  taken  advantage  of  the  stag's  head  and 
of  the  horns,  which  Brignoli  always  carries  with  him,  to 


SHORT  CONCERT.  237 

assert  that  his  confusion  and  disorder  have  been  caused  by 
a  baritone  of  his  enemies,  whom  our  tenor  insists  on  be- 
lieving an  evil  eye^  and  whom  he  sees  as  he  comes  upon 
the  stage  wickedly  sitting  in  the  first  box  in  the  gallery. 

The  concert  was  deplorable  this  evening.  Complete  si- 
lence. I  correct  myself.  Silence  when  I  entered  and  when 
I  went  out,  but  animated  conversation  all  the  time  I  was 
playing.  But  happily  we  conducted  things  briskly,  and 
dispatcned  over  eight  pieces  in  twenty-five  minutes. 

It  is  not  half-past-eight,  and  I  have  already  put  my  over- 
coat on  again.  "Short  and  sweet,"  said  a  charming  girl 
foing  out.  "A  great  deal  shorter  than  sweet,"  grum- 
lin^ly  answered  her  beau.  This  is  the  only  concert  where 
no  piece  has  been  encored.  I  perceived  on  the  wall  of  the 
artist's  saloon  the  ornamental  signatures  of  musical  celeb- 
rities who  have  preceded  me.  "  /Sam"  something  (the  name 
was  not  legible),  "  the  best  dancer  in  wooden  shoes  in  the 
whole  world."  It  was  himself  who  wrote  it.  "  Charley 
such  a  one,  a  first-rate  drummer,  who  can't  be  beat."  There 
are  anomalies  in  the  credulity  of  Americans  which  proceed 
less  from  a  bad  disposition  than  from  candid  ignorance. 
For  example,  a  child  or  a  young  girl  asks  her  father  for 
something  at  table,  and  takes  good  care  not  to  add,  'if 
you  please ;'  when  she  is  served,  it  is  very  rare  to  hear  her 
say,  'thank  you.'  As  for  the  men,  it  is  useless  ever  to 
ask  them  to  make  use  of  these  puerile  formulas.  They  are 
too  manly.  This  again  appears  in  the  order  of  ideas  which 
makes  them  walk  on  their  heels,  and  make  as  much  noise 
as  possible,  when  they  have  to  cross  a  saloon.  At  all  my 
concerts  I  have  an  opportunity  of  observing  this.  They 
would  be  ashamed  to  walk  on  tip-toe,  it  would  not  be 
worthy  of  a  strong  mind ;  but  what  do  they  call '  manly '? 
Is  it,  when  you  tread  on  your  neighbour's  feet,  to  look  at 
him  with  a  menacing  air,  as  if  saying  to  him,  if  you  are 
not  satisfied  I  will  knock  you  down  ?  AU  this  is  '  manly '! 
Manly  comes  from  man,  and,  man  being  superior  to  the  brute 
through  his  intelligence  and  not  through  his  force,  should 
this  not  be  rather  called  brutality?  An  artist  appears  be- 
fore the  public,  he  salutes  you ;  do  you  not  feel  something 
which  tells  you  that  you  ought  in  return  for  his  salute  to  give 
him  welcome,  by  the  only  means  which  is  in  your  power, 


238  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

by  applauding  him  ?  And  if  he  is  celebrated  is  it  not  the 
duty  of  politeness  to  show  him  that  you  are  disposed  to 
hear  him  with  pleasure,  prepossessed  as  you  are  in  his  favour 
through  his  good  reputation?  Then  after  a  piece  has 
pleased  you,  you  applaud,  in  order  that  he  may  play  it 
again  (which  is,  take  notice,  a  gratuitous  favour).  Hardly 
does  he  reappear  to  show  that  he  is  about  to  accede  to  your 
wishes  than  the  applause  ceases,  as  if  you  said,  "Now  that 
I  have  what  I  want,  I  laugh  at  you."  It  is  the  child  ask- 
ing for  something  and  giving  no  thanks  for  it.  You  tell 
me  these  are  puerilities.  Agreed.  But  these  trifles — 'if 
you  please,'  'thank  you,'  'I  ask  pardon' — ^when  you  are 
accustomed  to  them  through  constant  discipline,  are  like  so 
many  little  canals  through  which  your  sentiments  of  amenity 
and  politeness  are  accustomed  to  flow  outwardly.  A  man 
who  treads  upoA  my  corns,  and  quickly  turns  round  to  ex- 
press to  me  his  regret,  is  certainly  more  likely  to  become 
my  friend  than  my  enemy.  But  if,  besides  the  pain  he  has 
just  caused  me,  I  must  also  endure  his  insolent  indifference, 
suflfer  doubly.  If  these  trifles  were  more  rooted  in  our 
e^rly  education,  we  should  have  fewer  disgusting  fights, 
less  shameful  degradation,  drunkenness,  etc. 


1' 


March  5. 

Matinee  at  New  York,  large  audience,  although  the 
opera  ('Faust')  took  place  at  the  same  hour,  a  remark- 
able opposition.  Broadway  is  full  of  inquisitive  people. 
What  is  going  on?  It  is  the  departure  of  the  first  negro 
regiment  for  the  war.  Reached  Paterson  by  rail  in  one 
hour.  My  tuner  goes  to  the  music-seller  who  disposes  of 
my  tickets.  He  has  sold  nine  tickets.  New  Jersey  is  the 
poorest  place  to  give  concerts  in  the  whole  world  except 
Central  Africa.  Here  is  as  much  as  my  memory  enables 
me  to  give,  as  a  sketch  of  the  results  obtained  at  difterent 
epochs  that  I  have  given  concerts  there.  Elizabeth,  eighty 
persons.  Orange,  no  concert,  the  public's  fault.  Trenton, 
the  first  time  I  visited  it  in  1856  with  Madame  Bost- 
wick,  gave  a  result  of  forty-five  dollars  gtoss  receipts,  ex- 
penses forty  dollars,  profit  five  dollars  to  divide  among 
the  artists.  I  had  the  imprudence  to  try  once  more  my 
chance  at  Trenton,  some  months  ago.    Result,  forty-nine 


NE  W  JERSE  Y  INCURABLE.  239 

dollars  gross  receipts ;  audience  icy,  the  premises  going  to 
wreck.  I  could  not  even  succeed  in  making  them  applaud 
me.  The  only  manifestation  that  I  obtained  was  a  blast 
of  a  whistle  which  a  facetious  Trentonian  lanced  at  me 
after  'Murmures  Eoliens.'  After  the  concert  a  gentleman 
came  to  ask  me  if  I  stow  'eftets  Eoliens'  in  my  piano. 
New  Jersey  is  incurable.  Concerts  will  never  take  there. 
Harry  Sanderson  himself  also  tried  a  chance  at  New 
Brunswick  (take  notice  that  it  is  the  most  liberal  place  of 
all  in  New  Jersey  for  concerts),  gross  receipts,  first  concert 
seventeen  dollars,  second  concert  twelve  dollars.  I  must 
nevertheless  state  that  the  negro  minstrel  representations 
always  draw  the  crowd. 

Observation — ^A  man  said  to  my  tuner,  "The  people 
here  put  down  Gottschalk,  because  the  last  time  he  was 
here  he  was  so  drunk  he  could  not  play."  To  those  who 
know  my  habits  this  will  appear  less  ignoble  than  ludi- 
crous. Decidedly,  that  French  philosopher  who  said  with 
great  gravity,  "plus  je  connais  I'homme  et  plus  je  prefere  le 
chien  (the  better  I  know  man,  the  more  I  prefer  the  dog), 
did  not  after  all  say  anything  very  horrible.  I  am  not 
aware  that  dogs  tear  each  other  to  pieces  with  as  much 
avidity  as  men  do. 

March  7. 

Left  New  York  at  ten  o'clock  for  Philadelphia,  where  I 
am  to  give  a  concert  this  evening.  Last  evening  the  concert 
for  the  benefit  of  Harrison  took  place.  The  orchestra  per- 
formed the  overture  of  an  opera, '  Bourgeois  gentilhomme,' 
composed  by  Fradelle.  The  German  opera  is  broken  up 
for  want  of  money. 

March  8. 

Fine  concert  at  Philadelphia.  The  .  liberal  movement 
which  is  making  way  against  Puritan  bigotry  is  gaining 
ground  every  day.  The  Protestant  clergy  at  this  moment 
are  taking^  measures  to  prevent  the  running  of  c^rs  on 
Sunday.  They  have  called  a  meeting  to  which  they  have 
invited  all  those  who  are  in  favour  of  observing  the  Sab- 
bath. None  but  the  '  reverends*  were  at  the  meeting.  I 
played  at  the  concert  Tannhauser's  march  for  four  pianos. 


240  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

RETrnir  to  New  York,  Wednesday,  March  9. 

Played  with  Sanderson,  a  young  American  pianist  who 
has  a  great  deal  of  talent,  of  which  I  am  proud  for  more 
than  one  reason,  having  been  his  principal  master  and 
most  constant  friend. 

March  9. 

Left  for  ITorwalk.  In  every  quarter  'Sanitary  fairs' 
are  prosecuted  with  enthusiasm.  Chicago,  the  first,  pro- 
duced $100,000;  Cincinnati  $310,000;  Boston  $200,000; 
Brooklyn  $500,000 ;  New  York,  probably  $1,200,000 ;  with- 
out counting  all  the  small  towns.  They  will  probably 
make  in  all  twenty  millions. 

Norwalk  is  a  pretty  town,  picturesque  position.  It  is 
ten  miles  from  the  town  to  the  station,  properly  speaking. 
The  road  is  wide  and  shaded  with  trees  in  summer,  behind 
which  the  pretty  white  wooden  houses  with  green  shutters 
are  concealed. 

Again,  this  unfortunate  prejudice!  A  hackman,  who 
had  at  once  offered  me  his  services  with  an  almost  agree- 
able air  (I  say  almost,  because  no  hack-driver  is  forced  to 
be  polite,  through  certain  laws  of  which  you  and  I  are 
ignorant,  but  which  doubtless  are  dictated  to  them  by 
some  authority),  no  sooner  saw  Carlo's  unlucky  violin 
than  he  discovered  the  error  he  was  about  to  commit  in 
taking  us  for  slightly  respectable  eentlemen,  and  his 
question,  "Where  are  you  going,  you  ouiers?"  proved  to  me 
that  he  appreciated  us  at  our  value,  or  at  that  which  the 
public  opinion  of  my  dear  country  gives  us; 

The  concert  takes  place  in  one  of  the  handsomest  little 
halls  that  I  have  yet  seen  in  the  United  States.  My 
audience,  without  doubt,  the  same  which  I  had  here  last 
year,  is  one  of  those  for  whom  I  am  disposed  to  repeat  as 
many  pieces  as  they  wish  me  to.  An  amiable  audience, 
warm,  intelligent,  elegant,  the  majority  composed  of  young 

girls  whose  charming  physiognomies  are  made  to  turn  the 
eads  of  pianists,  present  and  future,  who  shall  venture 
(less  prudent  than  Ulysses)  to  cast  their  eyes  upon  their 
auditory.  Dear  Norwalk!  I  love  you  whom  I  have  done 
nothing  for,  both  for  the  warm  sympathy  that  you  show 
me,  and  for  having  escaped  the  icy  influence  of  your  neigh- 


MADAM  ANNA  BISHOP.  241 

bour  Stamford,  whose  remembrance,  without  being  so  dear, 
will  last  as  long  as  yours.  Bad  impressions,  alasT  engrave 
themselves  as  deeply  on  the  memory  as  the  good,  and  often 
the  latter  even  are  effaced  while  the  others  still  remain. 

Half  an  hour  after  the  concert  I  was  again  on  the  rail- 
road for  Boston.  One  word  more.  Norwalk  (it  is  with 
regret  that  I  state  this)  has  no  good  cigars.  The  one  I  have 
just  smoked,  bought  at  the  hotel,  is  veritable  poison.  Ar- 
rived at  Boston  at  seven  o'clock.  The  railway  porter  has  for- 
gotten to  put  our  trunks  in  the  car,  and  happier  than  we, 
they  remain  tranquilly  behind.  If  they  do  not  arrive  in 
time,  we  shall  have  to  put  off  the  concert  this  evening.  I 
am  assured  that  I  can  sue  the  railroad  company,  but  I  know 
by  heart  the  fable  of  the  iron  pot  and  the  earthen  pot,  and 
have  learned  to  my  cost  that  lawsuits  are  a  bad  business  for 
those  who  attack  others  stronger  than  themselves. 

Boston,  March  11. 

Unpleasant  weather.  I  play  badly — ^too  much  fatigued, 
and  have  the  influenza.  Madam  Anna  Bishop  also  gives 
a  concert  this  evening.  She  is  at  least  fifty  years  old, 
but  thanks  to  her  name,  rendered  illustrious  by  her  first 
husband,  Sir  Henry  Bishop,  the  composer  of  'Home, 
Sweet  Home,'  and  also  to  the  great  popularity  she  enjoys 
in  the  United  States,  which  she  has  acquired  by  singing 
English  ballads,  she  still  succeeds  in  making  good  receipts. 
Her  voice  is  yet  agreeable,  and  she  uses  it  with  art.  She 
has  married,  jot  the  third  time,  Mr.  Schultze,  an  American, 
who  has  nothing  to  do  with  art.  Her  second  husband  was 
Bochsa,  the  celebrated  harpist  of  the  First  Empire. 

Second  concert.     Eichberg  gives  an  orchestral  concert. 

Sunday,  March  13. 

JEnniii — ennui — ennui. 


21 


242  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 


CHAPTER  Xm. 

March  14. 

Left  at  eight  in  the  morning  for  Norwich  (Connecticut). 
In  the  car  a  neighbour  introduced  himself  to  me  as  one  of 
the  brotherhood.  He  is  a  travelling  music  master,  whose 
species  is  only  known  in  the  United  States.  They  go  from 
village  to  village  and  organize  classes,  which  they  teach 
collectively — religious  hymns,  national  songs,  etc.  There 
are  collections  of  little  airs  published  for  this  purpose. 

Superb  weather.  A  dazzling  sun.  The  snow  sparkles 
under  the  rays  of  light.  At  every  village  on  the  road  we 
take  up  young  girls  from  the  semmaries  who  are  going  to 
K'orwich  to  be  present  at  the  concert. 

Arrived  at  Norwich:  Professor  Whittleny  introduced 
himself  to  me.  He  is  a  singular  personage,  who  Reserves 
to  be  described  to  you.  Small,  fat,  a  large  bust,  short  and 
crooked  legs,  heavy  black  CTebrows,  from  beneath  which 
appears  a  roll  of  oily,  ruddy  flesh.  The  professor  in  a  basso- 
profundo  voice  informed  me  that  he  has  been  the  founder, 
director,  head-master,  professor,  and  proprietor  for  forty 
years  of  a  normal  college  of  music  for  young  girls  who  in- 
tend to  teach.  "All  pretty,  sir,  never  less  than  fourteen  or 
more  than  twenty  years  of  age.  In  good  health — ^and  I 
have  the  satisfiiction  of  being  able  to  say  that  during  the 
forty  years  that  I  have  been  the  head  of '  Music  Vale'  ^  (the 
name  which  he  has  given  to  his  colony,  situated  in  the  mid- 
dle of  a  picturesque  and  lonely  valley) "  there  has  not  been  one 
death.  The  principals  have  come  with  me  to-day  to  go  to 
your  concert  But  I  desire  particularly  to  introduce  you 
to  my  pupils.  I  only  teach  the  theory,  and  I  make  them 
work  it  out  by  practising  on  three  harps,  which  cost  me 
eight  hundred  dollars,  the  first  in  1825  ;  and  I  have  besides 
twenty-five  pianos,  but  they  are  a  little  old"  (judging  from 
the  harps  which  are  from  1825).  Every  time  the  professor 
gets  up  he  looks  as  if  about  to  take  wings  to  fly  away.    I 


MUSIC  VALE.  243 

gave  him  seats  for  himself  and  his  school.  After  the  eon- 
cert  he  came  and  grasped  my  hand  warmly ; "  never,  no  never, 
have  I  heard  anything  so  touching."  His  enthusiasm  knew 
no  hounds ;  he  embraced  me,  and  I  am  convinced  from 
making  acquaintance  with  his  breath  of  what  I  had  already 
suspected — that  is  to  say,  that  the  worthv  professor  of '  Music 
Vale'  is  a  much  greater  amateur  of  whiskey  than  of  music; 
and  after  having  been  introduced  to  his  pupils,  I  discovered 
that  Apollo  has  less  to  do  at  the  seminary  than  his  mother. 

New  London. 

Arrived  at  half  past  eleven  A.M.  Walked  through 
the  town  in  spring-like  weather.  The  churches  are  in  the 
ratio  of  one  for  every  ten  dwellings.  I  noticed  one  dwell- 
ing surrounded  by  gardens,  which  its  proprietor  has  had 
the  questionable  taste  of  painting  canary  yellow.  From 
the  garden  pales  to  the  roof,  including  the  shutters,  all  is 

{'^ellow.    Another,  at  some  distance,  is  painted  a  delicate 
ilac. 

March  21. 

Set  out  affain  from  Philadelphia  for  Baltimore.  It  is 
superb  weather.  I  have  engaged  Madam  Variani,  an 
American  soprano,  for  a  week.  She  is  married  to  Edward 
Hoffman,  a  talented  pianist,  and  brother  to  Eichard  Hoff- 
man. 

Behrens  is  reading  one  of  '  Dwight's  papers.'  I  turned 
hastily  away,  having  resolved  never  to  read  that  paper 
again.  An  honest  press,  enlightened  criticism,  never 
wounds  me,  even  when  they  notice  my  weaknesses  and  my 
defects;  but  *  Dwight's  paper'  is  the  reservoir  of  every 
little  bilious  envy,  of  every  irritatmg  impertinence,  of  all 
sickly  spleen,  which,  under  the  form  of  anonymous  corre- 
spondence, gives  the  writers  the  small  comfort  of  injuring 
all  those  who  give  umbrage  to  their  mediocrity,  and  enable 
them  to  conceal  themselves  behind  the  column  of  the 
chief  editor,  D.,  waiting  for  the  passage  of  the  object  of 
their  envy,  and  then  hurling  at  him  with  an  edifying  uni- 
formity their  little  bladders  filled  with  gall.  Their  spite 
increases  from  the  small  effect  of  their  bombardment.  The 
doctor  offers  something  analogous  in  his  mode  of  cure. 


244  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

When  the  blood  is  vitiated,  is  corrupted,  when  matter  has 
accumulated,  he  makes  an  opening  for  the  bad  humours  by- 
means  of  cauteries  and  blistering.  The  musical  profession, 
under  the  influence  of  the  bad  effects  of  vanity  and  envy, 
have  need  of  this  instrument  to  turn  aside  its  bad  humours. 
The  need  of  it  was  generally  felt,  and  'D wight's  paper'  has 
been  just  the  thing. 

JEn  route  for  Baltimore.  Our  car  is  filled  with  very 
noisy  soldiers,  who  sing  songs ;  smelling  also  of  the  eternal 
whiskey.  We  do  not  at  first  pay  any  attention  to  it,  but 
they  begin  to  be  very  disagreeable.  One  begins  to  smoke, 
then  a  second — a  third  imitates  him.  We  ask  them  to 
please  abstain  from  it  on  account  of  Madam  Variani  and  a 
young  lady  who  accompanies  her,  to  whom  the  smoke  is 
disagreeable.  They  hasten  to  let  us  know,  with  a  crowd 
of  epithets  taken  from  the  blackguard's  dictionary,  that 
we  are  no  gentlemen ;  that  these  are  no  ladies ;  that,  being 
soldiers,  they  have  a  right  to  do  as  they  please,  and  they 
would  prove  it  to  us.  After  this  speech — ^more  remarkable 
for  its  vulgarity  than  its  logic — all  the  soldiers  in  the  car 
commenced  whistling,  screaming,  and  howling,  after  the 
manner  of  the  Chinese,  or  of  savages  when  they  wish  to 
show  their  indomitable  courage.  An  oflicer  present  pru- 
dently abstained  from  interfering — for  many  reasons.  His 
first  (which  I  consider  bad,  he  gave  us  when  we  ap- 
pealed to  him)  is  that  they  are  soldiers  on  furlough,  and 
that  he  had  hardly  a  right  to  control  them.  The  second 
(which  he  did  not  give  us,  but  which  I  confide  in  secret  as 
being  good)  that  the  whiskey  bottle,  which  for  two  hours 
has  gone  round  in  the  vicious  circle  of  our  heroes,  has 
made  many  drinking  stations  on  his  lips,  and  that  an 
oflicer  would  be  unwelcome  to  reclaim  an  authority  which 
is  drowned  in  a  flood  of  spirits. 

*'  We  will  do  whatever  we  please ;"  these  words  sound 
in  my  ears.  I  acknowledge  that  I  was  choked  with  anger — 
a  disagreeable  anger,  because  it  had  to  be  mute,  like  right 
before  brute  force.  To  be  obliged  quietly  to  submit,  when 
you  know  that  you  have  the  right  on  your  side,  is  the 
hardest  thing  in  the  world,  and  i  experienced  it  at  that 
moment. 


I  LOVE  BAL TIMORE.  245 

Concert  at  Baltimore.  The  hall  hardly  holds  five  or  six 
hundred  persons.  I  love  Baltimore.  I  love  its  people.  I 
am  assured  that  they  are  Secessionists,  but  I  do  not  wish  to 
know  anything  about  it,  and  have  no  right  to  speak  but  of 
that  which  they  have  let  me  know — the  warmth  of  their 
friendship,  and  the  constancy  with  which  they  keep  their 
appreciation  of  me  as  an  artist.  Besides  at  Baltimore  they 
love  the  arts.  They  sing  more  there,  and  better,  than  in 
many  of  the  large  cities  of  the  United  States.  The  pro- 
fessorship of  the  piano  is  represented  there  by  artists  of 
great  talent,  who  love  me  (0  vara  avis!\  and  whom  I  love. 
0  Baltimoreans,  my  friends,  may  you  some  day  forget  our 
misfortunes! ! 

March  22. 

Concert  at  Washington.  On  the  front  row,  my  friend, 
the  Swedish  Minister,  Count  Pieper. 

March  23. 

Been  by  carriage  to  Alexandria.  Roads  cut  up.  Deso- 
lation everywhere.  I  have  obtained  a  permit  from  the 
provost-marshal  to  go  and  return  the  same  evening  by  the 
Virginia  shore.  Concert  at  Alexandria ;  quieter  than  the 
last ;  many  sentinels  have  mounted  guard  m  the  passages, 
and  have  even  sat  down  with  the  audience,  to  suppress  the 
noise  should  there  be  any.  We  set  out  again  immediately 
after  the  concert.  In  the  first  carriage  with  myself  were 
Madam  Yariani,  Hoffman,  and  his  mother.  In  the  second 
carriage  came  Strakosch,  Behrens,  Carlo  Patti,  and  Firmin. 
When  all  at  once  these  words,  "Halt!  who  goes  there?" 
the  password !  and  the  click  of  a  gun  reached  us  with  a 
clearness  of  sound  which  was  increased  by  the  darkness 
which  surrounded  us,  striking  us  with  an  emotion  (I  must 
confess  it)  not  a  little  disagreeable.  We-  show  our  safe 
conduct,  and,  after  some  parley,  we  proceed.  A  half  an 
hour  glides  by.  The  weather  is  superb,  the  sky  starry, 
and  the  atmosphere  almost  warm.  The  moon  lightens  the 
two  banks  of  the  Potomac,  on  which  the  angular  lines  of 
the  fortifications  are  visible.  "  Halt !"  Again  that  devilish 
click.  Decidedly,  I  do  not  like  travelling  in  the  midst  of 
the  avant  posts.    We  show  our  papers — ^they  are  right. 

21* 


246  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

We  proceed.  The  officer  in  command  of  the  post  keeps 
our  safe  conducts,  assuring  us  that  they  are  no  longer  neces- 
sary, as  in  half  an  hour  we  will  be  at  the  bridge  which 
crosses  the  Potomac  (a  bridge  three-quarters  of  a  mile  long); 
it  leads  into  Washington.  At  the  middle  of  the  bridge 
we  are  stopped  by  an  untimely  sentinel.  Unfortunately, 
our  safe  conducts  remain  behind  us.  The  chief  of  the  post 
arrives.  Impossible  to  pass,  "  it  is  our  orders."  We  shall 
have  to  return  to  Alexandria ;  but  the  -situation  on  that 
side  is  scarcely  more  favourable.  We  have  no  permission 
to  enter  Alexandria  by  night,  and  we  shall  be  obliged  to 
remain  on  the  road  until  daylight. 

Max  Strakosch,  who  has  got  out  and  has  gone  on  before 
to  confer  with  the  commander  of  the  post,  losing  patience 
at  this  piece  of  obstinacy,  let  escape  an  energetic  exclama- 
tion in  the  language  of  the  '  Vaterland.'  0  good  luck !  the 
sergeant  is  a  German.  He  loves  music  perhaps,  and  the 
end  of  Carlo's  violin  case  that  sticks  outside  the  coach  door 
convinces  him  of  our  innocence  and  peacefulness.  He  jab- 
bers in  German  with  his  compatriot  Strakosch,  and  the  end 
of  it  is  that  we  pass,  after  (for  form  only)  the  brave  warrior 
has  examined  our  countenances  by  placing  his  lantern  under 
our  noses. 

March  24. 

Concert  at  Washington.  The  President  of  the  United 
States  and  his  lady  are  to  be  there.  I  have  reserved  seats 
for  them  in  the  first  row.  The  Secretary  of  State,  Mr. 
Seward,  accompanies  them.  Mrs.  Lincoln  has  a  very  ordi- 
nary countenance.  Lincoln  is  remarkably  ugly,  but  has  an 
intelligent  air,  and  his  eyes  have  a  remarkable  expression 
of  goodness  and  mildness.  After  an  encore  I  played  my 
fantasia, '  LTJnion,'  in  the  midst  of  great  enthusiasm.  Lin- 
coln does  not  wear  gloves.  I  played  very  badly,  and  was 
furious  against  myself,  which,  however,  did  not  prevent 
many  of  my  friends  from  coming  to  congratulate  me  on  my 
success.  One  of  them  who  was  present  at  the  first  concert 
(at  which,  by-the-bye,  I  played  very  well)  said  to  me,  "Well 
and  good,  you  are  in  the  vein  to-night,  for  at  the  first  con- 
cert one  saw  that  you  were  badly  prepared." 


LIEUTENANT-GENERAL  GRANT.  247 

Good  Friday,  March  25. 

Took  the  railroad  to  return  to  Baltimore,  and  met  there 

my  excellent  and  constant  friends,  Mrs.  B and  her 

daughter. 

March  26. 

Concert  at  Washington.  Crowded  from  top  to  bottom — 
every  place  taken.  Lieutenant-General  Grant,  and  all  his 
staff  1  were  present.  Grant,  the  most  fortunate  of  all  our 
generals,  is  a  small  man,  of  ordinary  appearance,  slender, 
modest.  lie  has  taken  more  than  one  hundred  thousand 
prisoners,  and  captured  five  hundred  cannons  in  two  year^ 
and  a  half.  The  title  of  Lieutenant-General,  which  has 
just  been  decreed  to  him  by  the  government,  is  at  the  least 
equivalent  to  Marshal  (of  France).  We  have  never  had 
but  three  lieutenant-generals:  the  first  was  Washington, 
the  second  Scott,  after  his  fortunate  Mexican  campaign,  and 
the  third  Grant. 

Madam  Variani  sang  *The  Star  Spangled  Banner,'  each 
stanza  of  which  was  applauded  to  the  skies,  and  encored. 
The  enthusiasm  nevertheless  is  confined  to  the  gallery 
filled  with  soldiers  ;  the  parterre,  the  boxes,  and  orchestral 
stalls  abstain  from  demonstration.  You  are  not  ignorant 
that  Washington  is  of  very  doubtful  loyalty,  and  that  her 
most  influential  families  sympathize  with  the  South. 

Easter  Sunday,  March  27. 

It  is  most  beautiful  weather.  I  set  out  again  for  Balti- 
more at  half-past  seven  P.  M.,  and  arrived  at  my  good 
friends,  the  Curletts,  at  ten  o'clock. 

March  28. 

Left  for  Harrisburg.  For  seven  years  I  have  endeavoured 
eight  or  ten  times  to  give  a  concert  at  Harrisburg,  and  every 
time  I  have  been  prevented  by  some  unforeseen  circum- 
stance. You  will  perhaps  recollect  that  last  year  the  Con- 
federates invaded  Pennsylvania  at  the  time  announced  for 
my  concerts,  and  that  on  the  day  I  arrived  at  Harrisburg, 
the  avant  guard  of  the  Secessionists  was  only  a  few  hours 
from  the  city,  and  the  concert  was  put  oS  indefinitely. 


248  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

HabrisbubOi  March  28. 

Capital  (seat  of  government  of  Pennsylvania).  Well 
populated,  particularly  by  the  Germans.  It  has  preserved 
their  customs.  Its  houses  and  pavements  of  brick  are  clean. 
The  names  of  the  streets,  like  all  others  in  Pennsylvania, 
are  borrowed  from  the  vegetable  kingdom — Cherry  Street, 
Almond  Street,Walnut  Street,  etc.  Tne  capitol,  where  there^ 
are  two  large  halls  for  the  legislative  bodies,  is  a  niggardly 
monument  of  cut  stone  and  bricks,  surmounted  by  a  cupola ; 
its  elevated  position  in  the  middle  of  a  green  lawn  gives  it 
a  certain  air  of  grandeur. 

The  concert  takes  place  in  the  court-house.  My  tuner 
wishes  to  install  the  piano  on  the  platform  about  four 
o'clock,  but  the  court  is  in  session,  and  the  Judge  has  sent 
word  to  him  to  wait  an  hour.  The  hall  is  pretty,  and  my 
piano  is  just  below  the  Judge's  seat.  The  audience  is  charm- 
ing. I  observe  in  it  some  of  those  rose  and  lilj^  complexions 
of  which  our  ladies  have  the  privilege,  and  which  I  denounce 
to  the  artists  who  follow  me,  as  being  those  which  trouble 
the  soul  while  you  are  playing.  They  make  you  play  false 
notes,  and  give  a  suppressed  sigh  every  time  that  your  im- 
agination evokes  their  charming  images.  The  hotel  is  ex- 
cellent. 

March  29. 

I  just  woke  up,  calling  for  help.  Civilization  is  outraged 
by  a  barbarous  custom  to  which  we  submit  through  that 
kind  of  cowardice  which  we  exhibit  in  regard  to  all  ancient 
usages — an  abominable  custom  which  lacerates  the  ear — ^I 
speak  of  the  gong.  What!  I  am  of  my  own  free  will  in  a 
hotel  to  enjoy  all  the  privileges  of  hospitality,  and  I  must 
submit  to  this  unmerciful  discipline  which  condemns  me,  by 
a  barbarous  fashion,  to  be  deprived  of  my  sleep. 

A  regiment  of  veterans  are  passing  under  my  windows. 
I  am  told  that  for  three  days  they  have  been  fighting  in 
front  of  the  army  of  the  Potomac.  I  took  notice  yesterday 
at  a  station  of  some  fortifications  improvised  with  trunks 
of  trees,  and  a  block-house,  built  since  the  invasion  of  last 
year.  I  took  a  walk  through  the  streets  and  recognized 
the  charming  young  girl  who  applauded  me  so  much  last 
evening. 

The  world  behind  the  scenes  is  all  in  a  flurry  on  account  of 


REJECTED  CRITICISM.  249 

an  adventure  of  which  Mademoiselle  Vestvali,  'the  superb/ 
as  the  play  bills  announce  her,  has  been  the  heroine,  I  was 
going  to  say  the  victim,  if  the  buxom  proportions  and 
masculine  character  of  the  celebrated  contralto  did  not 
render  it  impossible  that  she  should  ever  play  that  role. 
She  has  smartly  chastised  the  two  fools  who  got  scotched 
by  her  rich  attractions. 

"He  never  plays  but  his  own  music."  Of  all  the  criti- 
cisms of  which  I  am  the  object  on  the  part  of  the  impotent 
and  jealous  who,  like  thorns  and  barren  bushes,  encumber 
every  avenue  of  art  in  America,  I  avow,  that  this  is  the 
one  which  I  am  the  least  disposed  to  accept.  If  I  had 
never  been  able  to  compose,  no  doubt  that  the  poorest  of 
musical  pretenders  who  had  manufactured  a  polka  or  a 
valse,  would  have  thrown  it  in  my  face  that  I  plaj^ed 
only  the  music  of  others.  If  my  compositions  had  failed 
in  originality,  "they  are  copies,"  would  not  have  foiled  to 
have  been  said;  but  I  compose,  and  what  I  compose  is 
unfortunately  my  own,  and  further,  the  public  seem  to 
like  my  music;  hence  their  rage.  I  understand  it,  but 
what  I  cannot  understand,  is  that  after  taking  a  great  deal 
of  trouble  to  find  fault  with  me,  they  make  that  a  crime 
in  me  which  really  is  a  merit.  It  is  the  cunning  of  the 
fox — unfortunately  one  of  that  animal's  ancestors  was 
guilty  of  the  same  thing  with  a  vine  of  our  acquaintance, 
and  since  then  we  have  held  him  in  slight  estimation. 

Sometimes,  in  my  moments  of  discouragement,  I  feel 
what  the  white  man  felt  in  the  midst  of  negroes,  when  he 
was  disconsolate  because  he  was  white  and  had  not  a  flat 
nose.  I  begin  to  regret  having  received  from  God  the 
afflicting  gift  of  being  able  to  create.  Why  cannot  I 
enjoy  in  all  the  plenitude  of  its  glorious  privilege  the 
right  of  criticism,  and  of  being  able  to  bark  at  those  who 
compose?  Criticism  in  these  cases  is  so  much  sweeter.  If 
Thackeray  was  lecturing  to  you  would  you  complain  that 
he  gave  you  Thackeray,  and  would  it  not  be  absurd  if  he 
recounted  to  you  the  passages  of  Hamlet  or  Othello  which 
any  actor  could  recite  to  you?  Perhaps  they  could  recite 
it  better  than  Thackeray ;  would  you  conclude  from  that, 
that  Thackeray  had  less  talent?  No,  certainly,  because  a 
vulgar  mind,  possessing  no  peculiar  physiognomy,  no  strongly 


250  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

marked  character,  can  accommodate  himself  to  every  fashion, 
while  he  who  has  been  cast  in  an  original  mould  cannot  abdi- 
cate his  individuality,  or  that  which  gives  him  superiority, 
in  order  to  reduce  himself  to  the  level  of  the  first  comer 
who  knows  how  to  read  and  has  a  voice  sufficiently  loud  to 
make  himself  heard.  Do  you  wish  to  insinuate  that  the 
classics  are  superior  to  all  which  we  accomplish?  Granted, 
but  besides  what  I  reserve  to  myself  to  ask  of  you  some 
other  day  what  you  understand  by  the  classics,  this  con- 
venient club  with  which  you  knock  on  the  head  all  those 
who  annoy  you,  I  should  like  to  know  if,  because  the 
apple  is  a  fruit  less  delicate  than  the  pineapple,  you  would 
wish  that  there  should  be  no  apples?  Berlioz  told  me  that 
the  originality,  the  subtle  refinement  of  a  special  talent, 
could  only  be  appreciated  in  very  old  societies.  If  we  are 
yet  to  proclaim  an  art  and  to  form  our  taste,  then  I 
understand  that  you  would  like  better  a  tame  interpreta- 
tion of  consecrated  chefs-d'oeuvre^  than  an  original,  which 
is  not  yet  consecrated  and  whose  place  in  art  you  dare  not 
yet  designate.  I  continue  the  comparison  I  began.  The 
consecrated  chefs-d'oeuvre  are  the  roast  beef,  les  grosses 
pieces  de  risistance^  on  which  the  people  must  be  nourished, 
who  begin  to  feed  at  the  banquet  of  civilization.  But 
wherefore,  when  they  are  sufficiently  fortified,  should 
you  refuse  them  the  little  dainties  of  the  dessert,  par- 
ticularly if,  in  place  of  being  insipid  and  indigestible,  they 
seem  to  stimulate  your  taste  and  refresh  your  palate  dulled 
and  overheated  by  too  rich  food?  Have  you  complained 
that  Rachel  was  only  great  in  the  tragedies  of  Comeille  and 
Racine?  Have  you  denied  her  talent  because  she  avoids 
comedy?  We  all  know  that  Shakespeare  is  superior  to 
Mr.  De  Cordova;  nevertheless,  none  of  those  who  listen  to 
the  charminff  lectures  of  this  witty  artist  conceives  that  it  is 
a  crime  in  him  to  give  us  his  own  instead  of  permitting 
himself  to  be  taken  in  tow  by  a  great  name  embalmed  by 
the  glory  of  two  or  three  centuries.  The  question  is 
reduced  to  this,  *all  apples  must  have  the  taste  of  pine- 
apples,' if  this  be  the  case,  'your  humble  servant,'  I  am  not 
the  man  for  you.  I  do  not  understand  that  art  is  like  a 
uniform  in  which  all  of  us  must  be  aligned  and  drilled 
like  Prussian  sergeants. 


LANCASTER,  PENNA.  251 

There  are  some  individuals  who  only  like  dried  frait ; 
they  even  like  it  a  little  mouldy,  and  if  they  find  dust  in  it 
thev  are  transported.  The  fruit  in  flower,  the  perfume 
which  opens  to  the  sun  and  betrays  a  young  and  vigorous 

frowth,  'Fie  then,  pooh!'  and  everv  tool  who  knows  no 
etter,  cries  out,  Fie!  pooh!  and  all  the  envious  and  im- 
potent, who,  in  their  conscience  know  better,  join  in  the 
chorus,  so  well  that  the  poor  apple  tree,  that  innocently 
opens  its  flowers  to  the  sun,  leaving  to  nature,  who  had 
made  it  a  tree  and  not  a  bush,  the  ripening  of  its  fruit,  finds 
itself  wholly  interdicted,  and  would  let  itself  dry  up  with 
chagrin,  if  it  did  not  feel  within  a  conscience  stronger  than 
the  clamoring  of  the  fool,  the  envious,  and  the  ignorant. 

Lancaster,  March  30. 

The  concert  was  very  ffood  last  eveninff.  The  hotel  is 
like  all  the  other  Pennsylvania  houses,  of  brick  with  white 
windows;  and  a  low  and  narrow  door.  In  the  parlour 
there  is  invariably  placed  horizontally  on  the  mantelpiece 
one  of  those  oblong  looking-glasses,  divided  into  three  com- 
partments, which  date  from  the  beginning  of  this  century. 
We  see  around  us  old  family  portraits,  badly  painted  but 
interesting  from  the  simplicitv  of  their  details  and  their 
costumes  which  belong  to  the  last  century.  One  fact  to  be 
noticed  is  the  remarkable  fecundity  of  the  families.  In 
Pennsylvania  the  carriages,  the  waiting-rooms  at  the  stations, 
are  filled  with  chubby-faced  children.  The  population, 
although  American,  have  preserved  all  the  characteristic 
traits  of  the  Germanic  provinces,  the  large  shoes,  the  immense 
round  hats,  and  ffreen  vests  with  double  rows  of  gilt  but- 
tons, and  their  blue  or  yellowish  surtouts  with  enormous 
skirts,  which  the.  German  peasants  have  the  exclusive  privi- 
lege of  wearing,  abound  here.  The  women  have  their  waists 
under  the  arms ;  some  wear  an  iron  gray  horizontal  bonnet, 
like  that  with  which  the  Quakeresses  muffle  up  their 
heads  under  an  aftectation  of  Christian  humility.  We  ob- 
served at  the  station  an  emigrant  with  three  pairs  of  twins. 

Their  manners  are  generally  more  gentle  and  simple 
than  those  of  the  other  States  which  I  have  visited.  There 
is  less  luxury  and  a  kind  of  patriarchal  simplicity. 


252  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

March  30. 

Leave  at  eleven  o'clock  for  Harrisburg. 

After  having  had  a  foretaste  of  spring  we  are  again  pre- 
cipitated amid  the  regions  of  winter.  During  the  whole 
week  the  atmosphere  was  warm  and  everything  green  was 
sprouting  in  the  sun,  and  now  the  rain,  the  snow,  the 
hail,  and  the  whole  desolate  train  of  a  season  in  which, 
despite  all  the  Northerners  say  of  it,  I  have  not  yet  been 
able  to  find  any  charm,  but  in  which,  on  the  contrary,  I 
constantly  discover  fresh  enemies.  At  the  concert  this 
evening  the  Governor  and  the  Secretary  of  State  were  pre- 
sent. To-morrow  morning  I  leave  at  eight  o'clock  for  Beth- 
lehem, where  I  give  a  concert  in  the  evening. 

Observation!  I  am  bound  to  state  that  nere,  instead  of 
saying  'man,'  they  say  'gentleman.'  The  young  clerk  at 
the  desk  in  pointing  us  out  to  the  waiter  said,  "  Show  these 
gentlemen  their  rooms."  In  the  West  they  invariably 
say  'man.'  The  driver  no  more  speaks  to  us  as  'fellows,' 
and  I  have  not  yet  heard  any  one  say  '  show'  in  speaking 
of  our  concerts. 

Decidedly,  although  a  little  behindhand,  Pennsylvania  is 
more  polite  than  some  of  her  brilliant  sisters. 

March  31. 

Left  for  Bethlehem  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
Behrens,  who  is  alwaj^s  hungry,  buys  a  dozen  oranges. 
He  complains  that  fruit  is  not  nourishing,  and  that  it  is 
two  hours  since  he  breakfasted,  and  what  a  breakfast ! ! 
We  arrive  at  Bethlehem  in  an  hour;  it  is  a  very  pictu- 
resque village.  The  principal  street  runs  up-hill,  and,  like 
all  the  interior  towns  of  Pennsylvania,  it  looks  oldish 
and  quiet.  The  houses  are  low,  the  windows  and  doors 
narrow.  We  finally  found  the  village  hotel.  What  most 
strikes  the  intelligent  tourist  who  visits  the  United  States 
to  seek  something  else  than  his  fortune,  is  the  absence  of 
all  tradition,  everything  is  new ;  everything  glitters  like 
new-made  furniture.  We  seek  in  vain  for  anything  which 
speaks  to  the  imagination  carrying  it  back  of  the  present 
generation.  The  villages  are  towns  in  miniature.  The  far- 
mers' wives  and  daughters  wear  crinoline  and  bonnets  with 
flowers.    Here,  at  least,  I  find  one  of  those  good  old  taverns, 


THE  GOOD  OLD  TAVERN.  258 

such  as  existed  in  the  last  century.  The  master  and  mis- 
tress of  the  hotel  (two  good  old  people)  come  to  receive  us 
on  the  porch.    "  You  are  welcome,    they  said  to  us. 

Magnificent  concert.  The  hall  full.  The  whole  village 
was  present.  The  seminary  was  represented  by  two  hun- 
dred and  odd  pretty  young  girls.  The  population  is  wholly 
German,  and  the  government  Moravian.  After  the  concert 
a  dance  at  the  hotel.    (Charming  young  girl !) 

Carlo  is  decidedly  the  spoiled  child  of  the  boarding- 
schools.  All  the  young  girls  dote  on  him.  He  is  besides 
a  charming  fellow.  I  have  to  write  my  autograph  hun- 
dreds of  times. 

I  have  forgotten  to  mention  the  Moravian  church,  in 
whose  interior  are  found  the  portraits  of  the  founders  of 
the  colony,  which  have  countenances  impossible  to  describe 
— ^all  Germans.  At  the  concert  I  remarked  a  man  in  spec- 
tacles and  his  wife,  who  laughed  all  the  time  and  never 
once  applauded.  I  wager  a  hundred  to  one  that  he  is  the 
professor  of  the  place !  I  have  visited  the  seminary,  which 
is  superb.  There  are  two  hundred  and  twenty  scholars, 
divided  into  twenty  families  of  ten  scholars,  who  each  have 
their  halls  for  study,  their  overseers,  and  their  dormitories, 
so  disposed  that  they  are  constantly  under  the  eye  of  the 
master.  There  is  a  large  basin  of  running  water  in  which 
they  can  swim  in  summer.  I  have  heard  less  swearing  in 
Bethlehem  than  in  any  other  place  in  the  United  States, 
and  I  have  seen  fewer  drunkards  there.  This  gives  it  a 
place  in  my  memory — a  privileged  place ;  the  horror  which 
I  have  for  drunkenness  not  being  equalled  except  by  that 
which  Mr.  D.  has  for  my  music.  Another  thing  to  state, 
although  I  have  walked  all  over  the  town,  I  have  not  even 
heard  once  the  'Maiden's  Prayer.'  Decidedly, "  Bethlehem, 
you  wish  to  make  a  conquest  of  me ! ! !" 


22 


254  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Left  at  six  o'clock,  accompanied  by  the  ladies  at  the 
hotel.  We  arrived  at  Easton  (twenty-eight  miles)  at  seven 
o'clock.  They  fought  to  get  into  the  concert-room.  The  hall 
has  only  four  hundred  seats,  and  they  have  sold  six  hun- 
dred tickets.  I  join  the  ranks  to  get  in.  The  avenues  are 
obstructed  by  those  who  came  late  and  have  to  stand  dur- 
ing the  concert.  Although  they  have  put  all  the  chairs  of 
the  neighbourhood  in  requisition,  mine,  which  was  before 
the  piano,  has  been  taken  by  a  gentleman  who  is  determined 
to  keep  it  without  wishing  to  be  convinced.  A  piece  of  old 
theatre  curtain  hung  on  crosswise  on  one  side  of  the  plat- 
form conceals  us  from  the  audience  when  we  do  not  have 
to  appear.  It  is  the  artists^  room.  We  have  returned  to 
Bethlehem  with  the  ladies  and  gentlemen.  In  the  train 
the  whole  company  commenced  singing  my  '  Cradle  Song,' 
Patti  singing  a  high  tenor.  One  couple  who  were  sleeping 
sent  us  and  our  '  Cradle  Song'  to  all  the  devils.  We  found 
everybody  up  at  the  hotel  waiting  for  us ;  and  the  young 
girls  from  the  seminary  having  obtained  permission  to  pass 
the  night  with  their  relatives  at  the  hotel,  they  danced  to 
a  late  hour. 

April  2,  1864. 

Left  Bethlehem.  The  professor  of  the  place  and  some 
young  people  escorted  us  to  the  station.  The  whole  semi- 
nary IS  at  the  windows ;  there  is  nothing  to  be  seen  but 
waving  handkerchiefs ;  as  we  descend  the  hill  the  young 
ladies  ascend  to  the  upper  stories ;  the  dormer-windows  are 
soon  invaded.  The  road  makes  a  turn ;  again  a  last  look 
cast  behind.  I  perceive  a  verv  small  white  point  which 
waves  above  the  top  of  the  roofs.  I  wave  my  handkerchief 
in  answer  to  this  unknown  little  friend  (may  God  bless  her) ; 
no  more — nothing  more. 

At  the  station  we  saw  the  country  contingent  of  con- 


THE  GERMAN  CONSCRIPT.  255 

scripts  leave.  A  sad  sight!  Some  of  these  poor  young 
men  blustered  and  sang,  whilst  others  have  found  in  their 
flask  the  necessary  courage  for  separation.  The  greatest 
number,  those  who  have  sisters,  a  mother,  children,  a  wife, 
whom  they  leave  behind  them  with  a  vague  and  very  dis- 
tant hope  of  seeing  again,  betray,  in  spite  of  American 
stoicism,  their  emotions  by  a  '  God  bless  you,'  'do  not  cry,' 
'  one  more  kiss.'  Some  veterans,  bayonet  on  their  guns, 
surround  the  detachment.  A  German  conscript  obtains 
leave  to  remain  a  few  paces  behind,  and  murmurs  words  of 
consolation  in  the  ear  of  his  poor  wife,  and  his  little 
daughter  stretches  herself  up  on  tiptoe,  while  crying,  to 
kiss  him.  He  rejoins  the  detachment,  and  I  see  him  smok- 
ing his  pipe  with  a  swagger ;  he  appears  thoughtless.  The 
train  starts ;  the  poor  man  leans  out  the  door  to  see  his 
wife  once  more.  Adieu  to  all  bragging !  Nature  at  the 
last  moment  has  assert^  her  rights.  "  Dear  Catherine," 
said  he  with  broken  voice,  "  God,  God  bless  thee !"  A 
large  tear  coursed  down  his  cheek.  He  can  laugh  no  more, 
nor  these  his  companions.  Wiff — ^wift^ — wiif — the  engine 
has  started.  The  crowd  give  three  hurrahs !  I  found,  on 
returning  to  the  hotel,  poor  Catherine  weeping  in  a  comer, 
her  head  hid  in  her  apron,  with  her  little  daughter.  "How 
many  children  have  you?"   I  asked  her.     "Four,"   she 

fently  answered  me.  God  knows  if  my  heart  did  not 
leed  at  the  picture  of  grief  and  pain  which  I  foresaw  for 
this  poor  family.  I  slipped  some  money  into  the  child's 
hand  and  stole  away  without  looking  behind  me,  thinking 
on  the  imprescriptible  right  of  those  fatherless  families 
upon  us  all  who  are  in  possession  of  the  superfluities  of 
life,  thanks  to  the  position  in  which  it  has  pleased  God  to 
place  us. 

Arrived  at  Baltimore.     I  am  with  my  good  friends  the 
Curletts.      Sunday  I  was    at  high    mass   and    heard    a 

delicious  'Agnus  i)ei'  of  Marschner  sung  by  Mrs.  B . 

The  religious  music  of  Weber  resembles  some  of  the  opera 
airs  of  Rossini.  The  sermon  is  poor  and  the  preacher  has 
a  most  pronounced  Irish  accent.  An  old  maid.  Miss  H. 
(near  a  saint),  who  in  the  choir  does  police  duty  over  those 
in  attendance,  and  casts,  especially  on  the  young  girls, 


256  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

withering  looks,  sleeps  behind  a  soprano  part  which  she 
holds  in  her  hand.  She  suddenly  wakes,  and  puts  on  a 
majestic  air,  puckering  her  lips.  She  has  caught  Mary 
G.,  daughter  of  the  old  choir  master  (who  sings  me  alto  in 
a  style  which  dates  from  remote  generations),  staring — a, 
mischievous  one,  who  never  counts  her  time,  and  comes 
always  with  two  or  three  scapegraces,  of  twenty  years  of 
age,  hooked  to  her  petticoats.  Scapegraces!  spoken  with 
a  grimace  which  smells  of  half  a  century  of  virginal 
bitterness,  and  in  a  tone  as  sour  as  the  green  grapes  of  the 
fable. 

Embark  on  board  the  Morgan.  Arrive  at  Fortress 
Monroe  April  14.  We  land,  our  steamer  not  going  any 
further,  and  the  oath  of  fidelity  to  the  government  must 
be  taken  by  all  those  who  leave  here  for  Norfolk.  Fort- 
ress Monroe  has  only  warehouses  for  military  stores,  and 
sheds  under  which  millions  of  balls  are  piled  up.  In  the 
office  of  the  provost-marshal  we  are  placed  before  a  desk 
behind  which  three  clerks  are  seated.  One  of  them  reads 
the  formula,  another  makes  us  raise  our  hands  together, 
and  the  matter  is  finished. 

Norfolk,  Virginia,  April  14. 

Monday.  I  wished  to  purchase  a  note-book,  and  for  this 
purpose  entered  a  shoe-store,  in  the  window  of  which  I 
saw  some  stationery ;  found  my  note-book.  At  the  end  of 
the  store  are  some  bundles  of  music  piled  up  on  a  table ; 
this  shoemaker  stationer  sells  then  music  also,  and  he  gives 
me  a  small  written  catalogue.  I  find  in  it '  La  Califomienne' 
by  Herz,  'la  Carlotta  Crisi'  (probably  Grisi)  polka,  'Last 
Hope'  by  myself, '  les  Cloches  du  Monast^re,'  and  all  the 
mawkish  American  songs  developed  by  the  war — '  Do  they 
think  of  me  at  home?'  'Mother,  do  not  weep,'  etc.  All 
these  conceptions  in  themselves  are  touching,  but  the 
melodies  adapted  to  them  are  absurd;  they  produce  in  one 
the  same  eflfect  that  the  '  Venus  of  Milo'  would  dressed 
up  like  Punch.  I  trembled  for  a  moment,  thinking  that  I 
had  read  the  words '  The  Maiden's  Prayer ';  it  was  only  a  false 
alarm.  Norfolk,  which  had  six  years  ago  its  population 
more  than  decimated  by  the  yellow  fever;  Norfolk,  which 
has  successively  been  taken  by  Federal  and  Confederate 


''THE  BATTLE  CRY  OF  FREEDOM.''  267 

armies;  Norfolk,  ruined  finally,  deserves  to  be  spared,  and 
for  once  at  least  it  escapes  the  plague  of  the  '  Maiden's 
Prayer.' 

'The  Battle  Cry  of  Freedom.'  I  am  accustomed  to  judge 
of  things  for  myself  and  to  give  myself  but  little  trouble 
about  the  date  or  signature  of  a  piece  of  music.  I  am 
aware  that  in  so  doing  I  manifest  my  perfect  ignorance  of 
the  rules  of  respect  which  one  owes  to  one's  self,  and  that 
the  great  art-prophets  will  shrug  their  shoulders  with  pity 
on  reading  this  confession  which  I  make  without  blushing, 
hardened  sinner  that  I  am,  but  what  do  you  desire?  I 
love  better  to  discover  in  my  chance  wanderinffs  a  little 
unknown  fiower,  humbly  concealed  at  the  foot  of  a  thorny 
bush,  than  to  be  the  infinitesimal  fraction  of  a  legion  whom 
tradition  makes  bear  arms  on  the  great  road  of  routine 
before  the  banner  of  a  miserable  chef-d^muvre  consecrated 
by  many  generations  of  blind  admirers,  influenced  by 
prejudice. 

'  The  Battle  Cry  of  Freedom'  is  this  obscure  fiower  which 
I  have  discovered  on  the  heap  of  dirt  which  the  poetasters 
and  the  musicasters  have  raised  at  the  foot  of  their 
country's  altar  since  the  war  began.  I  know  that  many 
will  tell  me  that  my  pretensions  are  not  well  founded, 
'The  Battle  Cry  of  Freedom'  being  very  popular;  and  to 
those  I  shall  reply,  that,  as  their  admiration  extends  to  a 
crowd  of  other  trifles  possessing  neither  poetry  nor  melody, 
they  should  not  suppose  that  their  suffrages  can  be  flatter- 
ing to  an  author. 

He  who  drinks  whiskey  with  pleasure  should  not  ven- 
ture his  opinion  upon  ToKay  wine. 

'The  Battle  Cry  of  Freedom'  ought  to  become  our 
national  air;  it  has  animation,  its  harmonies  are  distin- 
guished, it  has  tune,  rhythm,  and  I  discover  in  it  a  kind 
of  epic  colouring,  something  sadly  heroic  which  a  battle 
song  should  have. 

The  judgment  of  certain  persons  is  like  slow,  sluggish 
waters,  which  would  stagnate  and  grow  thick  with  mud 
if  canals  were  not  opened  for  them  which  they  have  not 
the  force  to  make  for  themselves.  The  judgment  of  these 
people  is  at  the  mercy  of  fashionable  prejudices,  of  routine, 
and  particularly  of  ideas  consecrated  by  time.    It  is  from 

22* 


258  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

among  these  docile  supernumeraries  that  the  rogues,  the 
ambitious,  and  the  envious  recruit  the  forces  of  which  they 
dispose.  "  Brignoli  has  lost  his  voice,"  and  all  those  envi- 
ous of  his  talents  repeat  with  a  clumsy  hypothetical  air, 
"Poor  Brignoli,  it  appears,  has  lost  his  voice."  How  de- 
lightful it  is  to  be  able  to  crush  a  man  whom  you  envy! 
False  news  propagates  itself  with  a  rapidity  that  I  have 
never  understood,  particularlv  when  it  can  be  disagreeable 
to  those  whom  we  do  not  like.  If  it  is  simply  a  scandal, 
it  falls  of  itself,  but  when  it  is  a  calumny,  ah !  what  a  wind- 
fall !  The  jealous^  nurse  it  and  water  it  like  a  hot-house 
plant.  They  put  it  under  glass,  watch  over  it  with  tender 
solicitude,  and  see  with  greedy  joy  its  flowers  open,  and 
exhale  their  poisonous  perfume!  What  a  good  thing  to 
revenge  one's  self!  Only  it  sometimes  happens  to  these 
horticulturists  of  venomous  thoughts  what  happened  to  I 
know  not  what  personage,  whose  glass  mask  falling  oft'  at 
the  moment  that  he  was  preparing  a  potion  which  should 
kill  I  know  not  which  one  of  his  enemies,  died  poisoned 
— ^a  victim  to  his  own  machinations.  It  is  what  the  Span- 
iard's call,  "Le  Julio  et  tiro  par  la  culata." 

Brignoli  has  returned  from  Boston,  and  has  sung  again 
at  New  York.  He  sung  as  he  always  sings  when  he  is  not 
ill  or  the  audience  not  repugnant  to  him;  and  the  immense 
army  of  disinterested  pei'sons  which  Brignoli  has,  all  pulling 
very  quietly  the  thread  to  cut  off*  the  neck  of  Mazzolini, 
on  discovering  that  Brignoli  could  sing  as  he  used  to,  have 
made  an  ovation  for  him.  The  envious,  wholly  discomfited, 
crawl  again  into  their  crevices. 

Beethoven,  taken  as  a  symphonist,  is  the  most  inspired 
among  composers,  and  the  one  who  composes  best  for  the 
orchestra.  The  instrumental  effiects  which  he  combines 
on  paper  are  always  realized  in  the  orchestra  as  he  has 
conceived  them.  As  a  composer  for  the  piano  he  falls  be- 
low mediocrity, — the  least  pianist  of  any  intelligence,  in 
our  days,  writes  infinitely  better  than  Beethoven  ever  did. 
"Hue  and  cry  on  the  robber! !"  are  you  all  about  to  exclaim? 
You  brawlers  will  never  attain  that  height  of  admiration 
which  I  have  for  Beethoven  when  he  is  great,  and  it  is 
through  this  admiration  that  I  am  forced  to  see  his  feebleness. 
I  will  explain.    The  piano  is  an  instrument  which  Beethoven 


BEETHOVEN  AND  THE  PIANO.  259 

but  imperfectly  knew,  and  which  besides  at  the  period  he 
wrote  was  but  the  embryo  of  the  piano  which  is  made  by 
modem  manufacturers.  The  instrumentation  of  the  piano 
is  a  special  matter.  The  point  in  question  is  not  only  to 
have  ideas,  but  to  know  how  to  adapt  them  to  the  piano, 
and  this  is  what  Beethoven  only  imperfectlv  knew.  The 
ideas  so  beautifully  and  so  marvellously  clotned  in  all  the 
splendour  or  all  the  tenderness  which  the  orchestra  affords 
him  in  his  profoundest  researches  are  clumsy  and  often 
tame  when  he  adapts  them  to  the  piano.  The  number  of 
forraulse  which  he  prepared  for  the  piano  were  extraordi- 
narily limited,  and  in  many  passages  we  feel  what  he  has 
wished  by  perceiving  that  he  has  not  attained  what  he  de- 
sired. Many  of  the  effects  which  he  combined  from  his 
knowledge  of  the  orchestra  have  failed  on  the  piano,  from 
not  knowing  how  to  translate  them  into  the  peculiar  lan- 
guage of  this  instrument. 

Suppose  Raphael  engraving  his  pictures  himself  after 
having  painted  them.  The  lines,  the  contours,  the  design 
of  them  would  always  be  pure,  the  first  conception  always 
inspired;  but  the  execution,  the  details,  the  tints,  the 
shadows,  the  lights,  the  life  finally, — do  you  think  he  would 
have  obtained  them?  The  poorest  engraver  would  have 
succeeded  better. 

Behrens,  my  accompanist,  has  just  gone  on  a  tour  of  dis- 
covery in  the  town.  He  has  made  the  acquaintance  of  the 
leader  of  the  orchestra.  The  poor  man  is  in  distress ;  he 
was  wishing  to  make  his  performers  play  in  my  honour  an 
overture  which  the  public  had  never  vet  heard,  but  he  has 
had  to  give  it  up;  his  orchestra  being  composed  of  five 
musicians,  one  of  which  is  a  kettle  drummer ! !  The  poor 
man  was  distressed  at  the  idea  of  having  to  accompany  me 
in  Weber's  concerto. 

Tuesday,  April  5. 

There  happened  to  me  yesterday  the  most  singular,  the 
most  incomprehensible,  most  disagreeable  thing  that  has 
happened  to  me  for  many  years.  After  dinner  I  went  down 
to  play  at  billiards.  The  waiter  came  to  tell  me  that  a 
gentleman  wished  to  speak  to  me  at  the  office.    I  told  the 


260  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

waiter  to  tell  the  gentleman  to  come  in,  but  he  soon  re- 
turned, saying  that  the  gentleman  did  not  wish  to  come  in, 
and  was  waiting  for  me.  I  went  out,  and  found  myself  in 
the  presence  of  a  gentleman  with  large  moustaches,  in  ordi- 
nary dress,  who  said  to  me :  "  I  am  Captain  Clark,  and  when 
I  asked  for  you  it  was  your  duty  to  come.  I  am  Captain 
Clark,  I  tell  you,  and  I  will  teach  you  to  come  when  I 
send  for  you."  All  this  was  said  to  me,  putting  his  fist 
under  my  nose,  and  with  the  amenity  of  a  Prussian  ser- 
geant reprimanding  a  conscript.  The  emphasis  he  used  in 
mentioning  his  name  and  grade  made  me  suppose  that  he 
was  one  of  the  authorities,  perhaps  the  mayor  of  the  town, 
and  that  we  had  committed  unwittingly  some  serious 
offence.  I  humbly  requested  him  to  tell  me  what  was  the 
matter.  "You  have  just  insulted  a  lady  in  the  dining- 
room,  and  I  wish  to  punish  you  for  it."  The  accusation 
was  so  absurd,  and  so  unlikely,  from  the  fact  that  I  had 
dined  alone  at  a  separate  table  with  Mr.  and  Madam 
Behrens,  that  I  did  not  know  what  to  reply,  and  the  only- 
thought  which  came  to  my  mind  was  that  Captain  Clark 
had  tnought  himself  a  knight  errant  at  the  bottom  of  a  bot- 
tle of  whiskey,  and  that  the  lady  that  I  had  insulted  was  as 
imaginary  as  the  armies  put  to  flight  by  Don  Quixote  when 
he  fought  against  the  windmills.  Captain  Clark,  supported 
by  many  other  valiant  warriors,  his  friends,  said  to  me  that 
I  was  only  a  "  strummer  on  the  piano ;"  that  the  place  for 
all  of  us  was  (pointing  with  his  finger  to  a  closed  door),  that 
he  would  punish  me,  etc.  A  colonel,  anxious  to  show  him- 
self, added  in  the  voice  of  a  cross  hippopotamus,  "I  will 
throw  him  and  his  company  out  of  the  window."  I  as- 
sured the  captain  that  I  had  not  seen  any  lady  at  the 
table,  and  that  besides  I  was  not  in  the  habit  of  insulting 
ladies.  I  gave  him  my  word  for  it.  "Your  word  of 
honour  is  not  worth  much.  I  do  not  believe  you.  I  have 
known  you  for  twenty  years!!"  What  could  I  do?  If  I 
had  had  the  least  chance  of  crushing  the  captain  I  would 
have  jumped  on  him ;  but  all  the  probabilities  of  crushing 
were  on  his  side,  and  it  would  have  been  more  than  absurd 
to  risk  my  life  to  revenge  myself  for  an  unmerited  insult, 
grossly  offered  by  an  unknown  person  whose  esteem  was 
mdifferent  to  me,  and  whose  moral  value  I  was  wholly  igno- 


''THE  CAPTAIN  CLARKS:'  261 

rant  of.  In  the  mean  time  I  must  say  that  where  soldiers 
rule  is  not  a  good  place  for  civilians,  particularly  if  they 
have  the  misfortune  to  pass  for  being  polite  and  men  of  the 
world.  There  is  nothing:  of  which  we  are  more  jealoua 
than  those  qualities  we  hear  praised  in  others,  and  which 
we  do  not  ourselves  possess.  The  Captain  Clarks  are 
numerous,  and  he  is  not  the  first  of  the  species  I  have  met 
with,  although  I  am  pleased  to  say,  that  no  one  has  yet 
equalled  him  in  brutality  and  rudeness.  However,  I  have 
since  learned  that  it  was  a  plot  got  up  beforehand  to  seek  a 
quarrel  with  me,  and  make  me  commit  some  excess  which 
might  cause  me  to  be  arrested,  and  driven  from  the  depart- 
ment. 

Played  in  the  evening.  Poor  hall,  frightful  weather, 
and  not  a  carriage  at  any  price  if  there  was  one  in  the 
whole  town.  SoMiers,  soldiers,  soldiers,  corps  de  garde! 
The  city  is  nothing  but  a  vast  corps  de  garde.  Conquered 
country !     Oh !  the  sword  I 

April  6. 

Third  concert,  not  the  worst  in  the  world  and  tolerably 
applauded.  Patti  is  evidently  the  favourite  here,  and  I  am 
not  astonished  at  it ;  it  is  not  that  he  plays  better  than 
usual  (we  are  all  too  much  put  out  and  bewildered  in  this 
corps  de  garde  to  play  well),  but  because  I  never  in  ray 
life  played  so  badly.  I  am  irritated,  I  feel  my  heart  swelling 
with  indignation  at  the  unjustifiable  attack  made  upon  me, 
and  the  impossibility  of  justifying  myself  from  the  position 
in  which  I  am  placed  renders  me  miserable.  To  add  to  it 
the  stage  box  is  occupied  by  Captain  Clark  and  Colonel 
Giant-killer,  who  wished  to  throw  us  out  of  the  window. 
Ah !  poor  Muse,  what  business  had  you  in  this  corps  de 
garde  ? 

April  7. 

Superb  weather.  The  elements  seem  to  be  appeased  now 
that  we  are  ffoing  away.  At  eleven  o'clock  we  take  the 
steamer  which  is  to  carry  us  to  Fortress  Monroe  in  an  hour 
and  a  half.  My  friend  Major  Darling  waits  for  me  at  the 
wharf  in  an  ambulance  with  eight  seats.  We  have  arrived 
at  the  fort.    The  ditches  are  one  hundred  and  eighty  feet 


262  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST, 

broad  and  nine  feet  deep.  The  garrison  now  numbers  three 
thousand  men,  the  maximum  is  six  thousand.  The  interior 
of  the  fort  is  a  small  town.  We  pass  before  the  quarter- 
general  inhabited  by  General  Butler  and  his  family.  The 
officers  have  formed  a  club,  which  meets  in  a  small  yellow 
one-story  house  opposite  the  powder  magazine.  There  are 
nearly  thirty  women  inside  the  fort.  Opposite  the  fort  is 
an  artificial  island  on  which  they  have  built  a  fort  mount- 
ing one  hundred  and  fifty  cannons. 

April  8. 

Arrived  at  Baltimore,  where  the  evening  concert  has 
been  very  good.     Always  the  same  charming  public. 

April  9. 

"Was  present  at  a  concert  given  by  a  society  of  amateurs 
whose  aim  is  to  diffuse  a  love  for  music,  to  elevate  the  taste 
and  to  promote  charity,  for  every  month  they  give  a  con- 
cert for  some  work  of  benevolence.  The  orchestra  and 
chorus  executed  several  fragments  of  Haydn's  *  Creation' 
and  Beethoven's  oratorio  '  Mount  of  Olives,'  and  although 
not  perfect  the  execution  was  very  satisfactory. 

Sunday,  April  10. 

Was  at  high  mass,  and  have  heard  some  excellent  music. 
The  choir,  composed  exclusively  of  amateurs,  was  excellent. 
A  delicious  '  Ave  Maria'  of  Marschner  was  sung  most  ex- 
quisitely by  Madam  B . 

Left  Baltimore  at  half  past  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  arrived  at  Philadelphia  at  two  P.  M.,  where  I  did  not 
even  stop  for  dinner,  but  took  the  train  for  Reading.  The 
concert  has  been  good.  The  last  time  that  I  played  here 
the  gas  went  out  in  the  middle  of  one  of  my  pieces  and  I 
had  to  finish  it  in  the  dark.  If  I  were  to  judge  by  the 
applause  my  performance  did  not  suffer  from  the  absence 
of  light.  I  like  to  think  that  it  was  to  that  I  owed  the 
applause.  A  shoemaker  of  the  town,  an  amateur,  had 
offered  to  play  a  fantasia  on  the  flute.  He  did  it  to  the 
satisfaction  of  the  audience  and  his  own.     ' 

Reading  has  played  quite  an  important  r81e,  thanks  to 
the  Knignts  of  the  Golden  Circle.    These  Knights  are  con- 


KNIGHTS  OF  THE  GOLDEN  CIRCLE.  268 

Bpirators  whose  end  was  or  is  (for  I  am  assured  that  the 
members  are  very  numerous  and  the  chiefs  still  at  liberty) 
to  resist  by  force  the  general  government,  and  to  offer  peace 
to  the  South  by  accepting  its  conditions.  The  Knights  of 
the  Golden  Circle  availed  themselves  of  the  pretext  of  the 
arrival  of  Federal  officers,  delegated  to  preside  at  the  con- 
scription, to  make  a  levy  of  shields.  The  attempt  failed, 
through  the  address  of  a  secret  agent  of  police  who  became 
a  member  and  denounced  the  conspirators. 

April  12. 

Left  for  Williamsport.  Pennsylvania  is  the  richest  of 
the  States  by  reason  of  its  coal-mines.  The  country  is 
mountainous,  woody,  and  intersected  by  brooks  and  rivers. 
We  crossed  on  viaducts  over  manv  valleys  whose  depths, 
seen  from  the  car  door,  made  me  dizzy.  1  have  not  dined, 
and,  beginning  to  feel  hungry,  I  succeeded  in  buying  at  a 
station  a  herring  and  some  bread.  I  never  ate  a  herring 
which  tasted  so  delicious  (hunger  was  cook).  Behrens 
groaned,  and  made  the  tears  come  to  our  eyes  and  our 
mouths  water  by  painting  for  us  a  picture  of  the  horrors 
of  hunger  and  telling  us  what  he  would  eat  were  he  at 
Delmonico's. 

Arrived  at  Williamsport  at  eight  o'clock.  I  had  sent  a 
despatch  to  Strakosch  telling  of  our  delay.  He  imme- 
diately put  up  bills  announcing  that  the  concert  would  not 
commence  until  nine  instead  of  eight  o'clock.  My  piano 
travelled  with  me  in  the  train.  Arrived  at  half  past  eight 
o'clock  at  the  hotel,  took  in  a  hurry  a  cup  of  bad  tea,  and 
away  to  business.  One  herring  for  dinner!  nine  hours  in. 
the  train  I  and,  in  spite  of  everything,  five  hundred  per- 
sons who  have  paid  that  you  may  give  to  them  two  hours 
of  poesy,  of  passion,  and  of  inspiration.  I  will  confess  to 
you  secretly  they  certainly  will  be  cheated  this  evening. 


264  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

April  13. 

Elmira.    Good  concert.    A  great  deal  of  enthusiasm. 

April  14. 

Owego.  Every  train  brings  reinforcements  to  our  audi- 
ence. A  dozen  have  come  from  Towanda  (thirtv-six  miles 
from  Owego).  The  concert  was  charming.  Every  piece 
encored. 

April  15. 

We  leave  for  Scranton.  Arrive  at  noon  at  Great  Bend 
Station,  and  must  remain  for  ten  hours,  the  train  for 
Scranton  not  leaving  until  half  past  two  o'clock.  Broad 
Bend  is  not  even  a  hamlet.  The  trains  going  to  the  West 
from  New  York  pass  here.  The  village  is  composed  of 
five  hotels.  Travellers  breakfast  and  dine  here.  A.  tele- 
graphic despatch  just  now  informs  us  that  the  train  that 
comes  from  Scranton  has  run  oif  the  line,  and,  a  bridge 
being  broken,  we  shall  probably  not  be  able  to  get  there 
this  evening.  A  sad  perspective,  that  of  remaining  in  this 
desert  for  twenty-four  hours.    It  is  also  a  very  considerable 

Pecuniary  loss,  since,  besides  the  receipts,  which  ought  to 
e  three  hundred  dollars,  I  shall  have  to  pay  the  expenses 
of  the  concert  and  the  salary  of  my  company  the  same  as 
if  the  concert  had  taken  place. 

Decidedly,  I  shall  not  be  able  to  get  to  Scranton  to-day. 
The  road  is  obstructed  at  the  inclined  plane,  and  cannot  be 
cleared  before  night.  I  have  telegraphed  to  Strakosch, 
who  has  been  in  Scranton  since  this  morning,  that  I  shall 
go  back  and  stop  at  Binghamton,  where  I  am  to  give  a 
concert  to-morrow. 

The  telegraph  office  is  opposite  to  the  hotel.  I  make 
the  acquaintance  of  the  agent.  What  is  to  be  done? 
After  having  examined  the  horizon  to  the  right  and  seen 


A  DRUNKEN  IRISHMAN.  266 

dusky  mountains,  I  look  to  the  left  and  see  there  the  same 
dusky  mountains.  Before  me  a  ffreen  and  gently  undulat- 
ing plain.  The  sky  is  blue.  The  landlord  of  the  hotel, 
an  old  white-haired  man,  is  sitting  before  the  door  caress- 
ing a  pretty  little  girl,  who  calls  him  grandfather.  A 
drunken  Irishman  is  telling  him  how  his  companions  of 
the  mine  (we  are  in  the  richest  coal-mining  district)  wished 
to  resist  the  conscription.  "When  will  Irishmen  and 
whiskey  cease  to  be  indissolubly  connected?"  Answer: 
When  the  employes  of  the  Ifew  York  railroad  shall  become 

polite.    When  Mr.  D ,  of  Boston,  shall  attain  a  clear 

comprehension  of  music  and  shall  cease  to  adore  the  music 
of  the  future.  When  my  countrymen  shall  walk  on  tiptoe 
in  a  concert  room.  When  hack-drivers  shall  be  governed 
by  a  tariff  which  shall  prevent  them  from  cheating  travel- 
lers, and  from  insulting  them  if  they  timidly  protest  against 
this  delicate  operation. 

In  the  telegraph  office  I  found  two  other  travellers,  com- 
panions of  ennui ^  and  we  entered  into  'conversation.  One 
of  them  I  found  to  be  Mr.  Catlin,  the  brother  of  the 
historiographical  Indian  painter  who  visited  Paris  some 
twenty  years  ago.  I  called  to  mind  that  Catlin  then  ob- 
tained very  great  success  from  curiosity !  thanks  to  the 
novelty  of  his  subject  which  he  had  treated  (with  a  very 
inexperienced  pencil).  Theophile  Gautier  even  devoted  to 
him  a  long  art  critique.  Sic  transit  gloria  mundi !  What 
has  become  of  Mr.  Catlin,  and  where  are  all  his  painted 
warriors  ?  After  having  rambled  all  over  Paris,  perhaps 
they  have  returned  to  their  own  country,  at  the  bottom  of 
some  valley  in  the  Par  West,  where  of  an  evening  they 
fill  their  wigwam  with  the  recital  of  the  marvellous  child- 
ishness and  indecent  vivacity  of  the  pale-faces  upon  the 
other  side  of  the  great  salt  lake. 

The  electric  apparatus  it  appears  is  getting  impatient, 
for  five  minutes  it  has  not  ceased  working.  The  operator 
announces  to  me  that  Strakosch  is  at  the  telegraph  at 
Scranton  and  wishes  to  speak  to  me. 

(Conversation,  one  hundred  miles  apart.) 

"  Dress  for  the  concert.     The  inspector  of  the  line  will 
dispatch  a  special  train  which  will  arrive  at  Great  Bend  at 
23 


266  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

six  o'clock,  and  you  can  reach  here  at  nine  o'clock,  when  a 
carriage  will  await  you  at  the  station  and  take  you  to  the 
concert  hall." 

Answer  (ten  minutes  afterwards) :  ''We  are  ready." 
At  six  o'clock  the  train  arrived,  at  nine  o'clock  I  was 
at  Scranton,  got  into  the  carriage,  reached  the  hall  and 
traversed  it  amid  the  applause  of  the  public.  .  The  audi- 
ence for  an  hour  tad  been  kept  in  hope  by  a  telegraphic 
dispatch  that  was  sent  as  fast  as  I  arrived  at  a  station  and 
at  five  minutes  after  nine  I  was  playing  the  overture  of 
William  Tell.  Every  piece  was  encored.  At  eleven 
o'clock  I  took  supper  (I  had  great  need  of  it)  at  the  excel- 
lent hotel,  'Wyoming  House.' 

April  16. 

Concert  at  Binghamton.  Very  small  but  charming 
audience;  the  concert  (unremunerative  as  it  was)  will  leave 
a  remembrance  not  less  agreeable  than  that  of  last  year, 
although  that  of  last  year  was  crowded. 

Sunday,  April  17. 

Arrived  after  twelve  hours  of  railroad  at  New  York. 
Leave  New  York  again  for  Newburg  at  three  o'clock  on 
the  eighteenth  of  April.  Repetition  of  my'Marche  de 
Faust'  for  four  pianos.  0  f)ianists,  who  enter  into  the  pro- 
fession, be  distrustful  of  amateurs !  They  are  never 
frightened  at  anything,  finding  everything  that  is  given 
them  to  play  too  easy,  and  are  offended  if  requested  to 
study  it ;  in  the  presence  of  the  audience  they  stick  in  the 
mud,  embarrassed,  and  leave  you  to  extricate  yourself  as 
well  as  you  can. 

Above  all,  remember  that  you  alone  will  be  held  respon- 
sible, and  as  to  them  they  know  not  how  it  happens  that 
they  made  a  mistake. 

Three  hours  of  railroad  and  we  are  at  Newburg.  The 
railroad  station  is  at  Fishkill.  Newburg  is  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  Hudson.  Seen  at  a  distance  the  town  of 
Newburg  presents  a  very  pretty  coup  d^ceil;  its  white 
houses  half  concealed  by  verdure  seem  to  scale  the  side 
of  a  steep  hill.  It  has  the  appearance  of  a  toy  village  in 
painted  wood.    Its  streets  are  quiet.    The  Hudson  seen 


NEWBURG.  267 

from  the  heights  of  the  town  rolls  on  majestically,  and  the 
setting  sun  at  this  moment  is  empurpling  the  village  of 
Fishkfll. 

Do  not  trust  to  appearances.  Newburg,  so  peaceful,  was 
last  year  the  theatre  of  a  frightful  tragedy,  whose  details 
will  affright  you.  An  unfortunate  negro,  accused  of  hav- 
ing violated  an  Irish  e^irl,  was  Ivnched  and  executed  by  the 
people.  Some  miserable  wretches  through  their  hatred  for 
the  negroes  excited  the  people.  They  broke  open  the 
doors  of  the  prison  in  which  the  negro  was  incarcerated 
awaiting  his  trial.  In  vain  a  courageous  Irish  priest  (the 
most  inveterate  enemies  of  the  blacks  in  the  United  States 
are  the  Irish)  endeavoured  to  appease  them ;  these  madmen 
seized  the  unfortunate  black,  drew  him  into  the  prison 
yard,  mutilated  him,  and  then  broke  his  skull  with  a  ham- 
mer. They  dragged  out  his  dead  body  by  the  heels 
and  hung  it  head  downwards.  What  aads  still  more  to 
the  horror  of  the  crime  is,  that  a  few  days  afterv^^ards  it 
was  discovered  that  the  negro  was  innocent. 

Not  eighty  persons  at  the  concert.-  Pretext,  that,  the 
concert  having  oeen  repeatedly  announced,  and  not  having 
taken  place,  the  public  was  not  willing  to  be  disappointed 
again.  There  is  no  reason  to  give  for  it.  There  are  no 
good  or  bad  daj^s.  There  is  only  a  public  willing  or  not 
willing  to  go  to  a  concert. 

I  knew  a  town  in  France  where  a  concert  never  suc- 
ceeded, and  it  was  always  a  source  of  amusement  to  see 
the  ingenuity  with  which  the  inhabitants  found  an  excuse 
for  it.  Sometimes  it  was  that  one  of  the  most  influential 
families  had  just  lost  its  chief  member.  Sometimes  a  lady 
who  was  just  dying.  Sometimes  it  was  too  late  in  the  sea- 
son, sometimes  too  early. 

My  piano  is  in  the  hall,  they  have  not  had  time  to  erect 
a  platform.  I  am  surrounded  by  a  balustrade  which 
entirely  conceals  me  from  public  view,  my  head  only  is 
above  it,  and  I  figure  to  myself  the  very  amusing  effect 
this  iead  must  have. 

It  may  be  said  undoubtedly  that  the  audience  is  enthu- 
siastic. Axiom:  the  enthusiasm  of  the  audience  is  always 
in  the  inverse  ratio  of  the  receipts.    If  the  latter  are  very 


268  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

ordinary,  the  applause  is  great.  If  It  is  profitable  the  audi- 
ence is  cold.     What  is  the  cause  of  this  anomaly? 

I  understand  that  the  few  amateurs  who  come  to  our 
concerts  experience  a  sort  of  compassionate  sympathy  for 
the  artist  who  must  play  before  empty  benches,  and  en- 
deavour to  make  him  forget  it  by  the  cordial  reception 
which  they  give  him.  But  what  reason  can  be  given  for 
the  icy  restraint  of  provincial  audiences  when  there  is  a 
crowd.  Why  is  it  that  the  public  does  not  applaud  when 
a  piece  finishes  piano?  Does  it  wish  to  be  astonished  and 
not  charmed ?  I^rimitive  audiences  are  carried  along  by  the 
eyes.  My  cradle  song,  which  finishes  by  a  long  diminuendo 
which  is  gradually  extinguished,  is  applauded  on  account 
of  its  takine  title, '  Chant  d'une  mere  au  berceau  de  son 
enfant,'  which  is  suggestive.  The  imagination  of  the 
Anglo-Saxons  is  not  sufficiently  active  to  embroider,  for 
itself,  a  poem  upon  the  music  to  which  they  are  listening, 
nor  have  they  yet  attained  to  finding  anything  else  in  music 
but  an  agreeable  noise,  so  that  one  is  obliged  to  give  them 
a  detailed  explanation  of  it,  upon  which  they  then  build 
their  little  poem.  This  is  so  true  that  when  it  has 
happened  that  I  played  the '  Berceuse'  under  another  name, 
by  which  it  was  not  known,  it  was  a  failure. 

We  left  N'ewburg  at  nine  o'clock.  I  met  a  Bloomer. 
The  Bloomers  are  the  disciples  of  a  sect  founded  by  Mrs. 
Bloomer,  the  champion  of  woman's  rights.  We  have 
many  female  lawyers  and  doctors  in  the  United  States. 
I  do  not  believe  in  women  who  assert  their  rights.  I 
shall  be  converted  when  I  meet  one  who  is  young  and 
pretty.  All  those  whom  I  have  yet  seen  are  perfect 
frights.  They  are  generally  virgins  who  wish  to  free 
themselves  from  the  odious  bondage  of  men  for  the  same 
reason  that  the  fox  found  the  grapes  too  sour.  Oh,  this 
arbor!  what  sour  grapes  it  produces!  My  fellow  country- 
men who  laugh  at  my  ribbon,  and  fasten  to  their  own 
button-holes  all  sorts  of  baubles  which  at  a  distance 
resemble  decorations — sour  grapes!  And  the  Democrats, 
who  thunder  in  Congress  against  the  European  aristocracy 
and  cause  themselves  to  be  called  judges,  colonels,  generais 
— sour  grapes!  And  pianists,  non-composers,  who  disdain 
to  play  any  other  than  classical  music,  and  the  musicians 


CHOPIN  BECOME  CLASSICAL.  269 

of  the  future  who  have  a  horror  of  limpid  melodies — sour 
grapes!  And  the  horrible  demoralization  of  European 
society,  thanks  to  which  you  cannot  find  among  twenty 
married  women  a  feithful  wife  (this  was  said  to  me  by  a 
virtuous  American,  who  loved  her  husband  moderately) 
— sour  grapes! 

Since  Liszt#  has  given  the  word  of  command  to  the 
Germans,  Chopin  hae  all  at  once  become  classical.  His 
forms,  which  before  they  treated,  without  understanding 
them,  as  whimsical,  his  harmonies,  so  worked  up,  have 
become  so  many  perfect  models.  I  do  not  complain  for 
my  part,  having  been  one  of  the  old  Chopinists,  but  what 
I  deplore  is  the  frightful  abuse  which  is  made  of  Chopin's 
formulas.  There  is  not  a  small  pianist  composer  who  does 
not  think  himself  called  upon  to  make  Chopin  mazourkas, 
Chopin  nocturnes,  Chopin  polonaises — it  has  become  an 
epidemic  in  the  United  States.  They  have  become  masters 
of  Chopin's  processes,  and  employ  them  without  discern- 
ment in  the  most  trivial  melodies.  This  recalls  to  me 
Madame  F.,  who  composed  music  after  Haydn. 

Schenectady,  April  19. 

Detestable  concert,  hardly  seventy-five  persons,  who 
applauded  at  random  with  a  free  and  easy  frankness  which 
was  very  amusing. 

April  20. 

Left  for  Troy,  where  I  have  had  a  very  poor  concert. 
Why  should  I  be  so  popular  in  certain  towns,  and  not  at 
all  in  others? 

Thursday.  I  started  for  ITew  York  at  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  Concert  in  the  evening  at  the  Academy  of 
Music,  Brooklyn — superb  audience.  A  young  lady  ama- 
teur, full  of  pretensions,  like  all  amateurs,  after  insisting 
upon  being  placed  upon  the  posters  refused  to  play  when 
her  turn  came,  on  the  pretext  that  she  could  only  play 
upon  her  Steinway.  I  played  in  her  place,  and  all  my 
pieces  were  encored.  Steinway  and  Chickering,  Guelphs 
and  Ghibellines  of  the  musicians,  are  divided  into  two  Ac- 
tions— the  Germans  are  for  Steinway, 

23* 


270  IfOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

April  22. 

Set  out  at  three  o'clock  from  New  York  for  Poughkeepsie 
— charming  place  and  charming  concert.  One  of  the 
papers  for  the  finale  of  '  Somnambula'  has  put  '  female !' 
This  brings  to  my  mind  a  programme  printed  at  Bordeaux 
in  which  I  played  the  'Bananier'  and  the  'Savane'  which 
was  printed  the  'Savanier'  and  the  *Banane.' 

Pouffhkeepsie  has  several  large  boardfng-schools  for 
young  ladies  and  one  or  two  large  colleges.  One  of  them, 
'College  Hill/  is  situated  on  a  hill  which  overlooks  the 
town.  From  the  college  porch  (whose  architecture  almost 
resembles  that  of  a  temple  of  Diana)  we  see  the  Catskill 
Mountains,  and  the  Hudson  rolling  on  in  all  its  majesty. 
This  College  Hill  was  only  three  or  four  years  ago  a  simple 
boarding-school.  Its  proprietor  sold  it,  not  being  able  to 
make  his  expenses.  His  successor,  an  intelligent  Yankee, 
commenced  by  studying  the  manners  of  the  town,  and 
found  out  that  it  was  aristocratic  but  slow.  Innovations 
are  there  like  exotic  plants  planted  in  the  open  air,  they 
wither  and  die.  A  boarding-school  under  the  name  of 
academy  had  only  had  up  to  that  time  a  moderate  success; 
he  baptized  it  with  the  name  of  college,  introduced  new 
branches  of  instruction,  a  military  uniform,  and  behold, 
soon  a  transformation  took  place,  pupils  flowed  in  from 
all  quarters,  and  College  Hill  became  what  it  now  is. 

April  23. 

Left  Poughkeepsie  at  ten  o'clock.  We  arrive  at  Rutland 
at  half  past  four  P.  M.,  stopping  ten  minutes  at  Troy. 
Behrens,  whose  appetite  increases  with  the  fatigues  of  the 
journey,  rushes  into  the  buffet,  but  the  bill  of  fare  only 
offers  tea  and  cold  pies.  Behrens,  who  is  a  philosopher, 
consoles  himself  by  making  puns,  that  grow  worse  and 
worse,  which,  to  spare  his  self-esteem,  I  place  to  the  account 
of  his  gastronomic  disappointment. 

Concert  at  Rutland  very  fine.  The  young  girls  of  the 
town  have  asked  me  to  play  '  Last  Hope.' 

April  24. 

Superb  weather.  The  mountains,  from  which  the  State 
takes  its  name  (Vermont),  undulating  in  the  sun.     Near 


VERMONT  MARBLE  QUARRIES.  271 

the  village  are  the  celebrated  marble-quarries,  known  under 
the  name  of  the  'Rutland  Quarries.'  The  white  marble  is 
eo  abundant  here  that  we  notice  white  marble  pavements, 
inclosure  walls,  brims  of  wells,  and  mile-stones  on  the 
road,  of  the  same  material.  We  have  taken  a  carriage  ride 
to  see  the  quarries.  The  workmen  have,  like  all  Northern 
workmen,  struck  for  an  increase  of  waees,  proportioned  to 
the  progressive  advance  in  price  of  all  articles  of  prime 
necessity  at  the  North. 

The  country  is  splendid.  A  waterfall  rushes  over,  and, 
its  spray  sifting  the  sun's  rays,  forms  a  true  rainbow.  A 
fertile  valley  spreads  out  before  us,  whose  emerald  hue 
alternates  with  the  deep  blue  of  a  little  stream  which  winds 
along  slowly  at  random. 

The  dark  mountains  on  the  horizon  still  preserve  at 
their  summit  the  snows  of  winter.  Behind  us  the  village 
of  Rutland  with  its  five  or  six  steeples  piercing  the  blue 
sky,  the  quarries  of  white  marble,  the  blocks  of  which, 
already  detached,  sparkle  like  diamonds  in  the  sun,  and 
all  around  us  the  green  fields  of  Vermont,  which,  with  the 
cloudless  sky,  form  a  picture  that  I  do  not  know  how  to 
describe. 

Behrens  has  had  the  unlucky  idea  of  hiring  a  buggy, 
and,  as  he  knows  no  more  how  to  drive  a  horse  than  I 

know  how  to  conciliate  the  good  will  of  Mr.  D ,  the 

result  is  that  he  found  himself  in  too  direct  contact  with 
another  carriage.  His  has  come  out  of  the  encounter  with 
a  slight  scar,  which  the  hirer  of  the  carriage  has  generously 
estimated  at  twenty-five  dollars.  I  doubt  if  the  country  of 
Vermont  will  leave  as  agreeable  an  impression  upon  him 
as  upon  myself. 

Behrens  was  awakened  this  morning  by  the  sheriff,  who 
had  been  sent  to  him  by  the  hirer  of  carriages,  as  Behrens 
had  neglected  to  pay  the  twenty-five  dollars.  The  affair  is 
settled,  but  Behrens  looks  rather  sheepish.  He  makes  up 
for  his  discomfiture  this  morning  by  redoubling  his  appe- 
tite and  emphasizing  his  pirns  more  than  usual.  Ste-nd 
from  under  I  We  leave  in  two  hours  for  Burlington,  where 
I  give  a  concert  this  evening. 

Arrived  at  the  hotel  in  Burlington,  we  discovered  that 
Carlo  Patti  was  missing.     Max  returned  to  the  station, 


272  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

and  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour  we  saw  Carlo  coming,  fol- 
lowed by  Strakosch,  his  ears  hanging  down  like  a  refrac- 
tory sheep  which  the  watchful  shepherd  is  leading  back  to 
the  fold.  Poor  Patti  slept  the  sleep  of  innocence,  and  did 
not  awaken  until  after  the  departure  of  the  train  from  where 
he  ought  to  have  got  out.  As  soon  as  he  perceived  his  mis- 
hap, he  had  the  train  stopped. 

Very  brilliant  concert.  The  public  warmly  applauded 
us  as  soon  as  we  made  our  appearance,  and  listened  to  us 
with  attention.  Result :  We  were  forced  to  do  our  best, 
feeling  ourselves  at  ease.  0  public  !  you  who  complain  of 
the  coldness  of  some  artists,  find  the  reason  for  it  in  your 
own  indifterence.  The  artist  generally  reflects  the  humour 
of  his  audience ;  is  the  latter  cold,  distracted,  indifl:erent, 
talkative,  and  ill  bred,  the  artist,  you  may  be  sure,  will  not 
become  warm,  and  inspiration  will  fail  him.  This  spark, 
which  ought  to  warm  you,  will  not  be  struck  from  him 
when  he  feels  that  it  would  be  extinguished  amidst  the 
indolent  impatience  of  those  who  listen  and  yawn. 

How  many  times  have  I  heard  this  in  a  small  town  the 
morning  after  a  concert :  "  He  has  not  been  kind,  and  has 
not  even  repeated  one  of  his  pieces," — ^when  the  audience 
had  hardly  applauded  me.  Could  I  repeat  that  which  no 
one  had  encored  ? 

April  26. 

I  set  out  in  a  few  moments  for  Plattsburg,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  lake.     We  go  in  a  steamer. 

Lake  Champlain  is  like  a  mirror.  The  silhouettes  of  the 
mountains  which  surround  it  are  reflected  by  it  in  grand 
shadows  of  a  dark  blue. 

My  friend,  the  Bishop  of  Burlington,  has  just  published 
a  book  to  prove  that  slavery  is  a  divine  institution,  and 
draws  his  arguments  from  the  Bible  itself.  Poor  Bible ! 
One  of  the  great  objections  I  have  to  the  free  interpreta- 
tion of  the  Bible,  as  the  Protestants  understand  it,  is  that 
every  one  can  make  it  speak  whatever  he  wishes  according 
to  his  prejudices.  Bisnop  Potter,  of  Pennsylvania  proves 
by  the  Bible  that  slavery  is  abominable.  The  Bishop  of 
Burlington  proves  by  the  Bible  that  slavery  is  a  divine 
law,  from  whence  I  conclude  that  the  Bible  in  the  hands  of 


HUMAN  HYPOCRISY.  273 

these  gentlemen  proves  nothing  unless  it  be  that  we  have 
an  odd  spirit,  and  that  the  most  absurd  and  odious  doc- 
trines find  always  something  to  sustain  them. 

Children,  young  girls,  constantly  read  the  Old  Testament, 
not  expurgated  holy  history,  but  the  Bible,  such  as  it  is  in 
the  original,  with  its  crudities  of  language,  its  concupiscent 
images,  its  coarseness,  its  monstrous  corruptions.  Children 
do  not  see  in  it  much  to  interest  them,  but  young  girls  feed 
on  it  constantly,  and  nevertheless  ihej  preserve  (or  pretend 
to  preserve)  the  purity  of  their  imagination. 

These  same  maidens  who  remain  impassable  in  readinff 
the  Canticle  of  Canticles  or  the  history  of  Lot,  are  troubled 
at  the  word  pantaloon^  blushing  to  the  ears  if  you  pro- 
nounce the  word  legs^  and  look  upon  you  as  ill-bred  when, 
inquiring  of  you  news  of  your  mother,  you  tell  them  that 
she  has  given  you  a  little  brother.  Fie,  then!  You  may 
say  that  she  had  a  bad  headache.  It  is  the  only  illness  ad- 
mitted in  society.  Puritanic  anatomy  only  recognizes  the 
feet  and  the  head,  and  in  some  cases  the  arms,  but  nothing 
above  the  elbow.  What  is  most  delightful  is  that  they  un- 
derstand very  well,  notwithstanding  all  this. 

So  if  you  wish  to  say  that  a  danseuse  has  pretty  legs, 
you  say,  she  has  charming  ankles.  You  wish  to  say  that 
your  wife  is  brought  to  bed,  you  say  that  she  is  obliged  to 
Keep  her  chamber  for  some  time.  These  expressions  are 
consecrated  and  express  absolutely  the  same  thing.  Oh, 
human  hypocrisy !  You  easily  accommodate  yourself  to 
these  little  subterfuges. 

The  journey  across  the  lake  is  charming.  Plattsburg, 
where  we  are  going,  has  only  four  or  five  thousand  inhabit- 
ants. A  speculator  in  the  village  has  engaged  us  for  a 
concert  for  three  hundred  and  twenty  dollars.  A  traveller 
has  just  assured  me  that  every  place  is  taken,  and  that  they 
come  from  twenty-five  miles  around  to  be  present  at  this 
grand  fete.  A  concert  like  ours  is  a  real  revolution  for  a 
village. 

Arrived  at  Plattsburg  at  one  P.  M.  Excellent  hotel 
Fouguet,  situated  on  the  edge  of  a  bluff  which  overlooks 
Lake  Champlain.  This  lake  freezes  in  winter ;  they  then 
use  boats  on  runners,  spread  their  sails  and  are  carried  by 
the  wind.    I  am  told  that  this  kind  of  travelling  is  as 


274  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

rapid  as  it  is  agreeable,  the  rate  being  at  an  average,  when 
the  wind  is  favourable,  of  two-thirds  of  a  mile  every  three 
or  four  minutes. 

The  concert  has  been  magnificent,  very  crowded  and  a 
great  deal  of  enthusiasm.  I  should  not  like  to  affirm  that 
it  was  not  through  human  respect  that  they  applauded. 

We  left  again  on  the  twenty-seventh  of  April.  I  per- 
ceived that  we  were  approaching  Canada  by  the  miserable 
aspect  of  the  country  and  of  the  farms.  The  railway  cars 
are  narrow,  comfortless,  and  roughly  built.  I  just  heard  a 
neighbour  speak  to  the  conductor  with  that  French  accent 
which  does  not  authorize  the  caustic  rage  with  which  the 
Canadians  laugh  at  "Parler  Parisien"  (Parisian  pronun- 
ciation). "  Je  n'ponse  poo"  (je  ne  pense  pas),  answers  my 
neighbour  to  a  question  of  the  conductor.  The  train 
itsdf  participates  in  that  apathetic  somnolency  which  ap- 
pears to  be  the  character  of  the  Canadian.  We  stop  every 
ten  minuter  and  make  only  ten  miles  an  hour.  Arrived  at 
a  cottage  on  the  banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  we  embark  on 
the  Iroquois,  a  steamer  which  will  carry  us  to  the  other 
side  of  the  river.  On  the  poop  of  the  steamer  I  notice 
two  squaws  (Indian  women)  who  sell  small  articles  worked 
with  colored  beads;  one  of  them  has  such  remarkably  small 
feet  that  she  attracts  the  attention  of  every  one,  although 
the  smallness  of  the  feet  among  the  Indians  is  one  of  the 
traits  of  their  race. 

MONTBBAL. 

Patti,  who  went  to  take  a  walk,  has  already  met  some 
friends,  good  Secessionists,  that  cannot  be  gainsaid.  Thanks 
to  the  noise  which  the  rash  enterprise  at  Buflalo  has  made 
(I  wished  to  speak  concerning  the  attack  of  which  he  has 
been  the  subject  in  a  paper,  respecting  his  sojourn  in  the 
South  and  of  his  service  in  the  Confederate  army),  Patti 
has  become  a  sort  of  hero.  At  St.  Louis,  where  Unionism 
is  more  than  doubtful,  he  was  applauded  to  the  skies 
every  time  he  played.  In  every  town  he  found  unknown 
friends,  who  welcomed  him,  felicitating  him  on  his  politi- 
cal opinions,  and  it  seems  that  a  sort  of  Freemasonry  con- 
nects all  these  conspirators  whose  machinations  are  happily 
limited  to  hypocritically  deploring  the  ruin  of  the  North, 


''THE  CONSTITUTION  AS  IT  WAS.''  275 

and  in  making  sterile  vows  for  the  triumph  of  the  South. 
I  know  nothing  more  odious  than  this  kind  of  hybrid 
patriot,  who  wim  arms  crossed,  protests  his  devotion  to  the 
Republic  and  remains  neuter,  except  when  by  his  clamours  he 
endeavours  to  fetter  the  eftbrts  of  the  government.  I  admire 
and  respect  those  of  the  South  who  fight  and  sacrifice 
themselves  for  what  they  think  a  just  cause.  I  do  not  par- 
ticipate in  their  convictions,  but  I  have  only  contempt  for 
these  politicasters  of  the  North  vho  wish  peace  at  any 
price,  without  thinking  that  the  plastering  up  a  few  cracks 
is  of  no  use  when  the  foundation  of  the  edifice  is  giving 
way,  and  that  in  the  social  no  more  than  in  the  individual 
body  an  eating  wound  does  not  cease  its  ravages  because  it 
is  concealed  under  an  anodyne  plaster. 

"The  Coiistitution  as  it  was  — such  is  their  cry.  Fools 
that  you  are!  the  Constitution  is  a  chimera,  and  the  venera- 
tion which  you  have  for  the  broken  pact  is  at  least  unsea- 
sonable. The  Constitution  to-day  has  become  impossible. 
It  would  be  as  unreasonable  as  to  require  that  a  man  should 
always  wear  the  clothes  of  his  boyhood,  and  have  his  limbs 
shortened  in  order  to  accommodate  them  to  his  clothes, 
now  become  too  small,  rather  than  enlarge  them  in  propor- 
tion to  his  growth. 

Behrens,  who  is  the  best  fellow  in  the  world,  and  whose 
humour  is  of  a  quality  that  has  been  able  to  resist  the 
melancholy  influence  of  the  piano  (I  say  melancholy,  because 
I  have  remarked  that  those  who  make  a  trade  of  a  thing 
are  generally  those  who  i^se  it  the  least;  witness  the  distit 
lers,  who  hardly  ever  drink  spirits,  and  the  disciples  of  har- 
mony who  are  never  able  to  establish  it  among  themselves), 
Behrens,  I  say,  after  my  parenthesis,  has  become  morose 
for  the  last  two  or  three  days.  The  bad  cheer  has  taken 
effect  upon  his  placid  and  benevolent  organization.  This 
enters  into  the  theory  of  one  of  my  friends,  a  mad  material- 
ist, who  pretends  that  the  celebrated  elegiacs,  poets,  and 
musicians  were  only  so,  because  they  had  a  bad  stomach, 
and  that  a  few  pills  discreetly  and  opportunely  swallowed 
would  have  relieved  them.  Let  us  rejoice  that  they  were 
not  like  my  friend.  For  my  part,  I  have  always  believed 
that  the  artist  was  a  victim,  fatally  destined  in  spite  of  him- 


276  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

self  to  be  an  instrument  through  which  Providence  breathes 
on  the  world  certain  expressions,  certain  ideas. 

In  Alsace  they  scoop  the  eyes  out  of  ducks  and  geese, 
and  suspend  them  by  the  feet,  head  downwards.  In  this 
position,  but  little  favourable  to  digestion,  they  feed  them 
plenteously.  The  liver  under  this  regime  becomes  fat,  and 
it  is  from  these  livers  that  the  famous  patis  defoie  gras  are 
made.  Thus,  artists  who  have  never  done  great  things, 
but  when  they  were  dying  of  hunger,  or  were  consumptive, 
or  amorous,  or  without  hope,  seem  to  me  to  be  the  geese  and 
the  ducks  which  Providence  has  condemned  to  the  costly 
privilege  of  exhaling,  at  the  price  of  their  existence,  har- 
monious thoughts  which  the  bons  vivants  of  mind  taste 
tranquilly  at  the  banquet  of  life. 

A  truce  to  poor  jokes.  Art  is  too  pure,  its  source  too 
elevated,  its  enjoyments  too  refined,  its  influence  too  noble, 
its  essence,  in  one  word,  too  divine  for  me  to  participate  in 
the  gastronomical  beliefs  of  my  skeptical  friend.  Art  is 
the  ardent  aspiration  for  the  beautiful.  It  is  voluptuous- 
ness sublimed  by  the  spirit ;  it  is  an  irresistible  transport 
which  makes  us  burst  the  bonds  of  material  space,  through 
the  ideal,  and  transports  us  to  the  celestial  spheres. 

This  long  digression  into  which  I  have  been  drawn,  has 
separated  me  from  Behrens,  and  from  the  influence  over 
him  of  the  eternal  'ham  and  eggs,'  this  refuge  of  tavern- 
keepers  taken  at  unawares,  and  that  punishment  to  which 
our  disorderly  life  condemns  us.  As  he  who  looks  down- 
wards at  a  country  loses  all  idea  of  its  perfection,  so  the 
stomachs  of  a  vagabond  company  lose  all  notions  of  a  regu- 
lar appetite  which  well  brought-up  stomachs  ought  to  have. 
We  dine  sometimes  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  sometimes 
at  noon.  Sometimes  breakfast  precedes  the  dinner  a  half 
hour,  and  sometimes  it  is  separated  from  it  by  two  hundred 
miles  of  railway.  After  this,  do  you  wonder  that  my  good 
Mr.  B.,  who,  because  he  has  an  excellent  stomach,  is  not  of 
an  elegiac  nature,  has  become  sad  for  the  last  three  or  four 
days  &om  our  feasting  at  absurd  hours  on  ham  and  eggs 
and  stale  sandwiches !  Fortunately  the  St.  Lawrence  Hotel 
has  an  excellent  table,  and  Behrens,  who  has  made  to-day 
three  festivals  of  Belshazzar,  feels  in  a  merry  humour,  and 
lets  fly  at  me,  when  I  least  expect  it,  a  broadside  of  puns 
of  high  Germanic  flavour. 


THE  ENGLISH  OFFICERS.  277 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

I  AM  back  from  the  concert.  The  rain,  which  has  not 
ceased  falling  since  this  morning,  increased  toward  eight 
o'clock,  which  evidently  ought  to  have  diminished  the 
receipts.  The  hall  nevertheless  was  well  filled,  and  the 
ladies,  elegantly  dressed,  produced  a  beautiful  effect  as 
seen  from  the  stage.  The  parterre  is  generally  occupied 
by  those  who  care  less  for  bein^  seen  than  for  listening  to 
the  music.  They  applauded  with  enthusiasm,  and  listened 
with  an  attention  which  singularly  contrasted  with  the 
noise  made  by  some  elegant  English  officers,  who  were 
determined  to  attract  attention  to  their  blonde  whiskers, 
their  convex  chests,  and  their  white  gloves,  which  they 
held  at  a  foot's  distance  outside  of  the  box.  Their  convern 
sation,  which  with  noble  condescension  they  made  in  a  loud 
voice  in  order  to  permit  the  whole  hall  to  enjoy  their  high- 
flown  humour,  was  disagreeably  interrupted  from  time  to 
time  by  my  pidno,  which  I  willingly  would  have  taken 
away  from  the  programme,  these  gentlemen  replacing  me 
in  a  very  advantageous  manner,  if  I  had  not  thought  that, 
perhaps,  the  public,  accustomed  as  it  must  be  to  them, 
would  have  much  preferred  me. 

I  know  nothing  more  ill  bred  than  a  fashionable  English- 
man, unless  it  be  two  fashionable  Englishmen. 

In  the  box  in  question  there  were  three,  and  they 
worthily  sustained  their  reputation. 

April  28. 

Thursday  evening.  Second  concert.  As  much  as  I  had 
played  without  pleasure  the  other  evening,  so  much  I  have 
excelled  myself  to-day.  All  my  pieces  have  been  encored. 
I  leave  to-morrow  for  Ogdensburg. 

April  29. 

Set  out  from  Montreal  at  seven  o  clock.    In  the  car, 
Cario  Patti — '  Sunshine  Patti,'  as  I  call  him,  on  account  of 
24 


278  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

the  happy  thoughtlessness  of  his  character — ^has  made  a 
conquest.  A  young  and  pretty  woman  made  advances  to 
him,  and  they  are  talking  together.  She  was  at  the  con- 
cert last  night. 

A  Seidlitz  powder  or  two  drachms  of  rhubarb  seasonably 
administered,  and  Petrarch  becomes  a  Boccacio,  Lamartine 

a  Paul  de  Kock,  and  Mr.  D might  become  an  amiable 

man.  What  a  beautiful  thing  medicine  is,  and  how  unfor- 
tunate it  is  that  I  have  not  the  recipe  for  those  marvellous 
pills. 


Arrive  at  Prescott,  a  small  Canadian  village  on  the  left 
bank  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  Opposite  to  it,  Ogdensburg,  on 
the  American  shore,  sefems  to  rise  out  of  the  water.  The 
waves  of  this  majestic  river  roll  slowly  along.  The  sun 
makes  them  sparkle  like  myriads  of  little  pearls.  We 
cross  in  a  ferry  boat.  Ogdensburg  is  a  large  town,  very 
rich  on  account  of  its  geographical  position. 
.  Seven  or  eight  years  ago  I  gave  a  concert,  here  in  com- 
pany with  Madam  de 'Lagrange.  I  remember  that  at  that 
time  I  received  a  perfumed  billet,  in  very  small  writing,  in 

which  some  one  invited  me  to  come  to  the  town  of '  to 

take  lunch.'  The  name  was  unknown  to  me.  liTevertheleSs,  I 
accepted.  The  house  was  concealed  in  the  midst  of  a  shady 
park,  surrounded  by  high  walls,  thus  defying  the  curiosity 
of  the  indiscreet.  No  noise  from  outside  could  disturb  the 
quiet  of  this  mysterious  abode.  I  should  have  thought 
myself  in  the  interior  of  a  convent,  if  an  old  servant  had 
not  come  to  receive  me  to  tell  me  that  his  mistress  wished  me 
to  wait  for  her  in  the  conservatory  adjoining  the  drawing- 
room.  The  residence  was  sumptuous.  French  albums, 
Parisian  engravings,  and  a  crowd  of  those  elegant  little 
trifles  and  superfluities  which  are  found  only  m  French 
salons,  and  which  the  morose  and  traditional  taste  of  the 
Anglo-Saxons  excludes  from  their  parlours,  at  once  told 
me  that  the  mistress  of  the  house  was  or  had  been  pretty, 
that  she  had  taste,  and  regretted  Paris. 

The  mistress  of  the  enchanted  house  soon  entered.  She 
was  a  woman  from  forty  to  forty-five  years  old,  who  must 
have  been  very  pretty.     She  told  me  her  name ;  and  that 


AMERICA  VESPUCCI.  279 

celebrated  name  then  recalled  to  me  an  infantile  impression 
which  had  engraved  on  my  memory  the  confused  image 
of  a  splendid  young  girl  of  pale  complexion,  superb  form, 
and  a  wealth  of  undulating  ebon  hair,  whom  I  saw  one 
evening,  on  the  balcony  of  the  St.  Louis  Hotel  at  New 
Orleans,  saluting,  with  the  gesture  of  a  queen,  the  crowd 
assembled  to  see  her.  A  black  velvet  tunic  boldly  slanting 
on  the  shoulders  caused  to  be  appreciated  the  admirable 
carnation  of  a  bosom  too  slightly  concealed.  Doubtless 
counting  more  upon  the  legitimate  beauty  of  her  charms 
than  on  that  of  her  pretensions,  she  came  to  claim,  as 
granddaughter  of  Vespuccius,  a  dowry  from  the  American 
people.  Congress,  whilst  composed  of  men  who  were  indi- 
vidually capable  of  admiring  the  charms  of  the  beautiful 
Genoese,  judged  d  propos  (and  I  congratulate  them  on  it) 
to  send  back  to  the  country  where  they  build  castles  in  the 
air  the  claims  of  the  descendant  of  the  godfather  of  our 
country.  The  beautiful  adventuress  was  much  pitied, 
much  loved  by  the  men,  much  hated  by  the  women  (the 
one  is  the  consequence  of  the  other),  passed  through  every 

Ehase  of  celebrity,  that  is  to  say,  that  the  former  placed 
er  upon  a  pedestal,  and  the  latter  tried  to  upset  it  into  the 
mud.  Like  the  stars,  she  had  her  zenith,  and  her  setting, 
and  she  was  soon  forgotten.  America  Vespucci,  tossed 
during  twenty  years  by  the  chances  of  fortune,  became 
stranded  some  years  since  on  the  banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence, 
where  an  old  millionaire  oifered  to  her,  under  colour  of 
indemnity,  I  suppose,  for  the  injustice  of  the  legislators 
of  his  country,  the  sovereignity  of  the  magnificent  mansion 
where  she  cbncealed  hersefi*. 

She  made  me  visit  the  park,  the  aviary,  the  library,  the 
marble  baths.  I  was  dazzled  with  all  the  splendours  of  this 
little  Eden,  hidden  like  a  nest  in  the  moss.  "Paris,"  she 
said  to  me  sighing,  "Paris! — ^without  my  fortune  and 
twenty  years  less !" 

The  poor  recluse  gave  me  to  understand  that  the  honest 
Ogdensburgers  did  not  treat  her  with  respect.  Envious 
of  her  taste,  her  travels,  her  fortune,'  and  her  power  over 
a  rich  old  fellow,  whom,  without  any  doubt,  the  provident 
mothers  destined  Hn  petto*  to  the  honour  of  being  their 
son-in-law,  and  angry  that  a  stranger  had  dared  to  mo- 


280  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

nopolize  all  this  fortune,  and  that,  by  treading  under  foot 
all  the  laws  of  that  dead  morality  which  we  are  all  so 
happy  to  invoke  when  we  are  not  able  to  crush  those 
whom  we  do  not  love — ^the  honest  people  of  Ogdensburg 
had  raised  little  by  little  around  her  one  of  those  insur- 
mountable walls  made  up  of  hatred,  jealousy,  and  of  secret 
malice  cemented  by  that  sour  virtue  of  small  towns.  She 
never  went  out,  saw  liobody,  and  wept  alone  under  the 
beautiful  trees  of  her  park,  whilst  the  birds  warbled  on 
the  branches. 

I  conversed  a  long  time  with  her  about  Rubini,  whom 
she  had  well  known  at  the  salon  of  Madame  Merlin,  where 
she  frequently  visited. 

I  asked  to-day  what  had  become  of  her.  She  started 
again  one  fine  morning  for  Paris,  said  some — she  is  dead, 
said  others. 

Concert  this  evening.  N'ot  a  large  audience  but  sympa- 
thetic. I  do  not  know  how  I  was  able  to  play;  I  am 
enfeebled.    All  the  pieces  encored. 

April  30. 

A  constable  has  come  to  arrest  me,  by  order  of  the 
president  of  the  village  (it  is  thus  the  mayor  calls  him- 
self) for  not  having  taken  out  a  license,  and  I  am  con- 
demned to  pay  a  fine  of  fifty  dollars.  I  go  with  the  con- 
stable to  the  justice  of  the  peace,  and  here  is  the  exposition 
of  the  affair  such  as  the  justice  of  the  peace  gave  it  with 
admirable  candour.  "Mr.,  it  is  true  tbat  it  is  the  custom 
for  us  to  send  in  advance  to  collect  the  five  dollars  for  the 
license,  but  as  the  mayor  said  that  the  constable  whom  he 
had  sent  last  year  made  known  to  him  that  you  had  then 
refused  to  pay  and  had  insulted  by  words  the  authorities, 
he  has  proposed  to  punish  you  for  it  by  letting  you  give 
your  concert  without  forewarning  you  that  a  ncense  was 
necessary,  in  order  to  be  able  to  fine  you  fifty  dollars." 

Admirable  simplicity!  and  behold  here  justice  well 
administered.  Here  am  I  condemned  to  pay  fifty  dollars 
because  a  constable  who  does  not  know  me  and  confounds 
perhaps  Jones  (who  has  insulted  him)  with  Gottschalk 
whom  he  has  never  seen,  makes  a  false  statement  to  a 


THE  CAPSIZED  SCHOONER.  281 

despotic  mayor  who  revenges  himself  on  me  by  laying  a 
snare ! 

Fortunately,  I  got  out  of  it. 

Sunday,  May  1,  1864. 

Spleen!  spleen!!  spleen!!!  The  streets  are  deserted — I 
see  the  crowds  returning  from  religious  service.  Young, 
irreproachable,  singularly  neat,  after  the  filthiness  of  our 
soldiers,  this  appears  to  me  so  much  the  more  extraordinary. 

We  embark  at  five  o'clock  on  the  Ottawa,  a  small  steamer 
which  crosses. from  Kingston  to  Cape  St.  Vincent  in  two 
hours.  We  shall  sleep  there  and  then  shall  set  out  for  Water- 
town.  The  wind  blows  furiously  and  our  poor  little  boat 
rocks  dreadfully.  Mr.  Strakosch,  who  is  not  a  good  sailor, 
and  who  a  few  moments  since  became  pale,  seeks  the 
solitude  of  the  captain's  cabin.  I  go  up  on  deck.  We  pass 
alongside  of  a  pretty  schooner  of  which  we  only  see  the 
prow.  She  capsized  five  days  ago  in  one  of  those  storms 
so  sudden  and  so  terrible  on  Lake  Ontario.  She  presented 
a  most  singular  effect,  lying  on  her  side  with  her  sails 
spread,  her  anchor  down,  her  hull  exposed,  and  her  masts 
beating  like  the  legs  of  some  gigantic  animal  struggling 
convulsively.  This  recalled  to  my  mind  the  painful  im- 
pression which  the  death  of  a  horse  always  makes  in  the 
bull  fights.  There  is  particularly  at  the  end  of  his  agony 
a  mechanical  movement  of  the  feet  which  act  distractedly 
as  if  they  wished  to  walk  ia  the  air.  It  makes  me  sick 
only  to  think  of  it. 

We  enter  into  a  narrow  canal  which  leads  to  Cape  St. 
Vincent.  The  boat  lands  at  a  spruce  little  hotel  on  the 
bank  of  the  lake.  A  tall  old  man  gives  us  a  welcome,  the 
more  assiduous,  as  his  hotel  is  at  this  moment  empty,  and 
we  are  nine. 

His  daughters,  charming  young  persons,  pink  and  white, 
wait  upon  us  at  table.  Excellent  supper.  Fried  trout, 
caught  in  the  lake. 

May  2. 

Slept  badly.     The  rats  have  feasted  all  night  under  one 
of  the  feet  of  my  bed,  and  have  kept  me  awake. 
We  start  at  six  o'clock  for  Watertown.    Reach  there  at 

24* 


282  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

eight  o'clock  in  the  morning.  We  give  a  concert  to-day  at 
seven  o'clock,  because  the  workmen,  I  do  not  know  of  what 
factory,  give  a  ball  in  the  same  hall,  which  is  to  begin  at 
nine  o'clock.  Audience  kind,  and  very  enthusiastic.  Un- 
fortunately we  are  tired  out.  The  want  of  sleep  gives  me 
a  buzzing  in  the  ears,  and  from  the  first  notes  I  feel  that  I 
shall  hamly  be  able  to  play  to  the  end  of  the  programme. 
This  week  we  have  slept  on  an  average  five  hours  in  the 
twenty-four,  and  travelled  every  day. 

May  3. 

Left  Watertown  for  Utica. 

The  population  of  Utica  is  from  thirty  to  forty  thousand 
souls.  There  are  some  beautiful  churches.  Trinity  church, 
among  others,  in  which  I  have  noticed  an  excellent  organ, 
built  by  a  musical  instrument  maker  of  the  town.  Some 
of  the  streets  are  lined  by  trees,  whose  thick  foliage  forms 
a  delicious  shade.  But  what  particularly  attracts  the  at- 
tention of  travellers  in  Utica  is  its  asylum  for  the  insane, 
which  is  one  of  the  most  complete  establishments  on  the 
American  continent.  The  head  physician  of  the  hospital 
is  one  of  our  friends.  He  is  hardly  more  sane  on  the  sub- 
ject of  music  than  his  patients. 

It  pours  rain,  and  I  fear  that  the  receipts  of  the  concert 
this  evening  will  be  very  poor. 

Very  warm  audience.  Utica  has  always  received  me 
well.  I  am  always  listened  to  with  kindness  there,  and 
always  warmly  applauded. 

The  doctor  takes  me  to  sleep  at  the  hospital  for  the  in- 
sane. The  doctors  and  attendants  inhabit  the  fa9ade  of  the 
immense  quadrilateral  which  the  hospital  occupies.  It  is 
eleven  o'clock.  The  doctor  invites  me  up  into  his  chamber 
to  smoke,  he  his  pipe,  I  my  cigar.  Our  conversation  at 
first  languishes  as  when  given  up  entirely  to  the  pleasure 
of  having  nothing  to  do,  and  the  spirit  follows  with  pro- 
found solicitude  the  spirals  of  cigar  smoke  as  it  unrolls 
in  the  air,  and  displays  its  forms  oefore  disappearing.  I 
asked  the  doctor  if  he  had  ever  occupied  himself  with 
spiritual  manifestations,  which  for  the  last  fifteen  years 
have  troubled  the  United  States,  and  which  at  certain 
periods  acquire  new  life  by  the  apparition  of  some  extra- 


INTERVENTION  OF  SPIRITS^ABSURD.  288 

ordinary  phenomenon.  The  New  York  papers  for  some 
days  have  Deen  full  of  the  extraordinary  things  done  by  the 
Davenport  brothers.  I  myself  saw  them  at  St.  Louis,  and 
will  tell  you  hereafter  the  facts  which  I  have  witnessed. 
The  doctor  said  to  me,  what  all  staid  people  candidly  tell 
me  here, "  I  do  not  know  what  to  think.  There  is  certainly 
one  or  some  phenomena  which  evade  science,  and  are  con- 
nected with  some  unknown  principle,  from  which  elec- 
tricity, and  all  the  phenomena  of  second  sight,  of  somnam- 
bulism, of  mesmerism  probably  proceed.  As  to  believing 
in  the  intervention  of  spirits,  and  making  a  new  revelation 
of  it,  that  is  simply  absurd.  "I  was  (it  is  the  doctor  who 
speaks)  at  Port  Hope  some  time  since.  One  of  my  friends, 
appointed  by  the  government  to  do  some  work  for  the 
establishment  of  a  railroad,  had  to  live  in  a  laree  stone- 
house  which  had  been  placed  at  his  disposition.  The  house 
had  belonged  to  an  old  ftir  trader,  who  had  frequently  com- 
mitted acts  of  violence  during  his  life,  and  had  made  him- 
self particularly  hated  by  the  Indians  who  sold  their  peltry 
to  him ;  he  had  robbed  many  of  them,  said  some  one,  and 
added  in  a  low  voice  that  he  had  assassinated  some  of  them. 
Whether  or  not  merited,  the  bad  reputation  of  the  fur 
trader  had  become  proverbial,  and  since  his  death  the  house, 
some  said,  was  haunted,  and  afterwards  the  inhabitants  told 
me  every  night  the  ghost  of  X.  stalked  through  all  the 
chambers."  The  doctor  and  his  friend  slept  in  the  first  story. 
The  invisible  ghost  (no  one  had  ever  seen  it,  but  it  had  been 
heard  breathing,  walking,  coughing)  always  made  itself 
lieard  the  first  night  the  new  occupant  passed  in  the  house. 
Before  going  to  oed  the  doctor  and  his  friend  went  over 
the  house  from  the  cellar  to  the  garret.  They  shut  up  all 
the  servants  in  their  chambers,  and  minutely  examined  the 
large  lower  hall  paved  with  stone,  situated  exactly  under 
the  apartment  where  they  were  to  sleep,  and  in  which  the 
spirit  preferred  to  make  himself  heard.  All  the  doors  lead- 
ing into  the  hall  were  bolted,  except  that  which  led  to  the 
first  story.  Retired  to  their  chambers,  the  two  strangers 
waited.  The  hours  passed  on — ^nothing  was  heard  save  the 
noise  of  their  breathing — and  at  last,  tired  of  waiting  for 
nothing,  they  went  to  bed,  certain  of  having  once  more 
put  an  end  to  chimerical  fears,  and  more  than  ever  con- 


284  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

vinced  that  ghosts  only  exist  in  imaginations  diseased  or 
fond  of  invention. 

At  the  hotel  (Bagg's),  an  excellent  hotel  by  the  way,  the 
servant  came  to  tell  me  that  two  persons  wished  to  see  me. 
They  introduced  themselves,  for  they  are  two  young  men 
who  look  like  farmers'  sons,  with  the  ease  of  Americans, 
who  are  never  embarrassed,  and  told  me  that  they  had  come 
twenty  miles  in  a  carriage  to  be  at  the  concert,  and  that, 
learning  that  I  was  there,  they  profited  by  it  for  the  pur- 
pose ot  seeing  me.  They  are  members  of  a  community 
which  has  founded  a  village  near  Oneida.  To  my  question 
whether  they  belong  to  a  sect  recognized  by  the  govern- 
ment, they  replied  that  theirs  only  dated  from  six  years  ago. 
They  cultivate  strawberries,  of  which  they  have  fii'teen  hun- 
dred acres,  drink  no  strong  liquors  and  use  no  tobacco. 
They  eat  no  n\eat  but  only  vegetables.  They  have  formed 
an  orchestra  of  thirty  musicians,  and  in  the  evening  on  re- 
turning from  the  strawberry  fields,  the  family  assembles,  a 
prayer  is  made,  and  a  little  concert  is  given.  The  chief  of 
the  community  directed  them  to  ofter  me  their  hospitality 
during  the  summer.  I  shall  perhaps  accept;  I  am  curious 
to  see  these  new  Arcadians  at  work. 

Stbaguse,  May  4. 

I  know  of  Syracuse  only  the  two  pavements  close  to  the 
hotel  which  is  itself  at  the  railroad  station  (bad  hotel,  by- 
the-bye),  where  the  cook  endeavours  to  make  the  good 
things  which  the  bill  of  fare  announces,  uneatable.  The 
trains  arrive,  leave,  cross  each  other  without  ceasing  and 
that  in  the  midst  of  the  town,  and,  crossing  at  right  angles 
the  most  popular  street  of  Syracuse,  cause  me  an  mexhaust- 
ible  astonishment.  How  is  it  that  two  or  three  hundred 
are  not  killed  in  the  midst  of  this  confusion  ?  You  cross 
the  street  and  look  to  the  right ;  '  take  care !'  cries  a  man 
to  you.  It  is  the  tail  of  ari  immense  train  that  backs  and 
threatens  from  behind  the  horses  which  take  fright.  If 
there  is  a  providence  for  children,  drunkards,  and  the 
blind,  be  well  assured  that  there  is  one  for  the  American 
railways,  for  more  independent  enterprises  no  one  could 
ever  find. 

Audience  quite  numerous  and  very  dilettante. 


OSWEGO^AUBURN.  285 

Syracuse,  without  being  different  from  some  small  towns 
which  I  have  visited,  always  gives  me  a  good  audience.  I 
however  know  nobody  or  nearly  so,  and  iiave  no  personal 
friends  there. 

Maj  6,  1864. 

Leave  a^ain  for  Oswego  at  half-past  two  o'clock  P.  M. 
Arrive  at  hve  o'clock. 

Oswego  is  remarkable  for  its  picturesque  situation.  The 
concert  has  been  charming.  I  always  play  with  pleasure 
at  Oswego.  They  listen  to  me  with  attention ;  I  am  always 
enthusiastically  applauded  there.  Do  not  hasten  to  con- 
clude that  because  I  always  go  back  there  with  pleasure, 
the  receipts  are  good,  for  with  me  the  one  is  not  the  con- 
sequence of  the  other.  There  are  some  towns  where  I 
always  make  money  and  which  I  do  not  like,  and  others 
where  I  make  nothing  and  yet  like  to  go.  I  know  that 
this  is  absurd,  that  reasonable  men  will  shrug  their  shoul- 
ders at  it;  but  you  know  that  artists  understand  but  little 
about  business  and  have  but  little  foresight.  There  is  one 
thing  that  money  cannot  rule:  it  is  the  inspiration  of  the 
artist. 

Friday,  May  6. 

Set  out  again  from  Oswego  at  half-past  seven  P.  M.  for 
Geneva,  where  we  arrived  on  the  seventh  of  May  at  four 
o'clock.  We  travel  since  the  morning  through  a  succession 
of  lakes  with  which  the  State  of  New  York  abounds.  The 
smallest  of  these  lakes  is  as  large  as  Lake  NeufchStel.  I 
have  counted  as  many  as  forty-Siree  in  the  State  of  N'ew 
York  alone.  Geneva  possesses  a  medical  school,  an  Episco- 
pal seminary,  an  independent  college,  and  several  boarding- 
schools  for  young  ladies.  I  have  met  here  a  dyspeptic 
English  musician,  who,  with  the  greatest  faith  in  the  world, 
maintains  that  England  has  produced  the  best  musicians, 
and  the  best  composers  in  the  world !  Concert  passable, 
and  audience  very  kind. 

Saturday  morning,  May  7. 

Left  again  for  Auburn.  Concert  magnificent,  all  the 
pieces  encored.    In  the  hall  a  charming  battalion  of  young 


286  NOTES  OP  A  PIANIST, 

girls,  of  those  who  cause  false  notes,  and  the  remembrance 
of  whom  is  accompanied  with  a  deep  sigh  heaved  by  the 
old  bachelors  who  have  the  pleasure  or  me  misfortune  of 
meeting  them  on  their  way. 

Lately  a  gentleman  among  the  audience  did  not  cease 
repeating  during  the  whole  concert  "  When  then  are  they 
going  to  play  an  air?"  and  after  three  pieces  by  Mad,  S,, 
after  those  of  Carlo  Patti,  after  my  five  or  six  solos,  he  re- 
peated, "  I  have  not  yet  heard  one  air,'  and  he  went  away 
perfectly  disgusted.  You  would  be  astonished  to  learn  how 
many  millions  of  men  are  like  him.  A  general,  whom  you 
know  and  whom  I  know,  loves  to  repeat  to  his  friends  that 
he  can  recognize  on  hearing  them  but  two  airs,  the  one 
*  Yankee  Doodle,'  and  the  other  which  is  not !  One  of  my 
friends  lately  told  me  that  at  one  of  my  concerts  he  was 
seated  before  two  ladies  who  consoled  themselves  for  the 
total  absence  of  *  airs,'  by  seeing  that  in  the  third  part  I 
must  play  '  Home,  Sweet  Home"  with  variations.  They 
waited  patiently.  The  concert  went  on,  'Home,  Sweet 
Home'  was  encored,  which  did  not  prevent  the  good 
women  from  saying, "  But  when  is  he  going  to  play  'Home, 
Sweet  Home'  ?"  and  on  leaving  they  complained  bitterly  that 
I  had  announced  a  piece  which  I  did  not  play.  The  ear  of 
many  people  is  so  little  exercised,  that  they  only  under- 
stand two  or  three  airs  which  they  continually  hear  from 
their  birth.  'Yankee  Doodle'  for  example,  the  hideous 
'  John  Brown,'  and  the  '  Last  Rose  of  Summer'  (even  this 
last  is  already  too  learned),  and  thus  there  must  be  only  the 
melody,  without  harmony,  without  variations,  absolutely 
naked,  as  a  fifer  would  play  it,  for  them  to  recognize 
it.  The  least  artifice,  the  least  ornament,  they  lose  the 
thread,  are  confused,  and  the  complaints  begin  that  there  is 
no  air. 

A  good  enough  concert  at  Auburn.    I  heard  a  lady 

foin^  out  say,  "  What  a  deafening  racket  he  makes  with 
is  piano.  There  is  no  music  at  all  in  it."  I  have  often 
heard  others  speak  of  it,  who  said  that  I  always  played 
too  soft,  and  that  I  did  not  make  enough  noise.  0  critics ! 
you  would  be  very  annoying  if  you  were  not  so  amusing ! 


SUPERIORITY  OF  AMERICAN  WOMEN.  287 

Sunday,  Maj  8. 

Been  to  Catholic  church  and  heard  mass.  Execrable 
music !  Organ  played  by  a  young  girl  who  made  impossi- 
ble harmonies.  Sermon  very  long.  The  preacher  screamed 
loud  enough  to  tire  his  lungs.  The  congregation  was  aftected. 

May  9. 

Set  out  again  from  Auburn  at  seven  o'clock  in 
the  morning  for  Rochester,  where  I  arrived  at  a  quarter 
past  eleven  o'clock.  Charming  town ;  one  of  the  neatest, 
most  animated,  and  most  civilized  of  the  West.  My  con- 
certs here  are  always  profitable  and  my  audience  always 
well  disposed.  Concert  this  evening  excellent.  I  should 
like  to  transport  in  a  lump,  for  the  edification  of  Europe, 
some  of  the  audiences  which  come  under  my  notice. 

The  feminine  type  in  the  United  States  is  undoubtedly 
superior  to  that  of  Europe.  Pretty  young  girls  are  a 
majority  in  American  audiences,  whilst  in  Europe  they 
are  an  exception.  Besides  the  education  of  women,  taken 
on  an  average,  is  more  complete  here.  American  women, 
with  their  delicate  sentiments  and  the  intelligence  which 
our  system  of  education  develops,  united  to  the  native 
elegance  of  their  sex,  will  do  more  than  all  the  legislators 
in  the  world  to  polish  men,  and  to  circumscribe  within 
judicious  limits  the  turbulent  efiervescence  which  is  found 
at  the  surface  of  all  new  societies.  Without  them,  'whiskey' 
and  the  'revolver'  would  completely  overrun  us.  By  their 
soft  but  powerful  influence,  our  manners,  little  by  little, 
become  softened ;  and  I  foresee  the  day  when  a  drunkard 
will  be  treated  according  to  his  habits,  that  is  to  say,  like 
a  brute,  and  when  those  who  are  always  ready  to  draw 
their  revolver  will  be  punished  as  assassins. 

At  Rochester  I  have  seen  some  of  the  most  charming 
types  of  women  that  have  ever  crossed  the  dreams  of  an 
old  bachelor !  Outside  of  my  exceptional  position  of  pianist 
and  old  bachelor,  this  is  the  element  which  I  dread  the  most 
in  my  concerts — it  gives  me  absence  of  mind,  and  a  wrong 
note  is  very  quickly  struck !  Suppose  I  have  to  make  a 
leap  to  reach  a  black  key  at  the  extremity-  of  my  key-board. 
I  take  my  measure  well,  but  the  Capitol  is  close  to  the  Tar- 
peian;  my  finger,  not  well  assured,  because  my  eyes  are  on 


288  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

my  audience  and  my  spirit  traverses  the  field,  slips,  and 
from  the  Capitoline  summit — D  sharp,  for  example — is 
ignominiously  precipitated  into  the  Tarpeian  depths  of  E 
natural  —  to  my  consternation,  and  to  the  joy  of  the 
PiANiSTicuLES  whose  subtility  for  scenting  out  defects 
could  never  be  equalled  but  by  their  bad  will  in  discover- 
ing accomplishments.  It  would  be  well  for  all  of  us  who 
criticise  without  mercy  the  works  of  our  neighbour  to 
make  a  sum  in  the  rule  of  three  for  our  own  use.  Let  us 
suppose  that  Mr.  X,,  who  has  never  been  able  to  play  the 
music  of  others,  nor  his  own,  for  the  double  reason  that 
the  latter  is  still  in  a  projected  state  (never  to  be  realized) 
and  beyond  his  powers — let  us  suppose  that  he  falls  with 
all  his  might  upon  some  unfortunate  pianist — upon  myself, 
for  example— do  you  think  he  would  show  himself  mode- 
rate ?  Not  at  all.  '  Demi^re  esperance.'  How  as  to  that? 
Good  for  little  girls!  '  Banjo.'  A  melody  for  the  negroes! 
'Pooh !'  Lacks  execution,  without  taking  into  account  the 
old  tricks! 

Thus  always  the  same  song:  "He  does  not  play  classical 
music."  And  when  the  ordinary  run  of  mortals  applaud, 
he  shrugs  his  shoulders.  But,  wretched  man,  be  prudent 
then !  The  more  you  belittle  me,  the  more  you  bemire 
yourself  in  the  dark  mud  in  which  your  venomous  imper- 
tinence stagnates.  I  am  nothing,  but  I  am  more  than  you. 
What,  then,  are  you  ? 

Some  of  his  friends,  hidden  by  the  lion's  skin,  cause 
themselves  sometimes  to  be  taken  for  the  lion  by  only 
scratching  without  roaring.  The  more  merciless  they 
are  in  their  judgments,  the  more  talent  is  conceded  to 
them.  One,  who  is  nothing,  always  displays  skill  by 
attacking  those  who  are  something.  ^  Audaces  fortuna^^ 
etc.  One  has  nothing  to  lose,  and  fools  are  easily  caught. 
A  Mr.  Monte  Mayer,  a  vulgar  physician,  has  become  cele- 
brated in  Spain  by  giving  a  course  of  lectures  in  which  he 
f)roves  that  Newton  was  a  fool.  But  these  counterfeit 
ions  cause  fear  because  they  never  forget  themselves  and 
conceal  their  voice,  but,  by  dint  of  playing  the  part  of  the 
king  of  the  forest,  they  end  by  persuading  themselves  that 
they  are  really  so-^they  wish  to  roar,  ft  is  then  that  we 
hear  a  hi!  haw!  bursting  out — ^the  fraud  is  discovered, 


"  I  KNOW  AN  ASS.*' ,  289 

and  everybody  laughs.  They  themselves  never  perceive 
it,  and  continue  gravely  to  shake  their  asses'  ears  over 
their  mane.  I  know  an  ass  well,  who,  after  having  devoted 
his  pen  for  ten  years  in  proving  to  the  artistic  world  that 
my  compositions  were  detestable,  was  advised,  miserable 
wretch,  to  publish  in  an  unlucky  day  one  of  the  lucubra^ 
tions  of  his  pen  and  of  his  gall-filled  brain!  I  confess  that, 
until  the  moment  that  this  happy  composition  fell  into  my 
hands,  I  had  thought  myself  killed  by  the  attacks  of  this 
severe  Aristarchus ;  but,  after  having  read  it,  I  consoled 
myself  by  addressing  to  him  '  in  petto'  this  apostrophe, 
which  I  borrowed  from  Voltaire :  "  Sir :  I  pardon  your 
criticisms  because  nobody  reads  them,  but  I  shall  never 
pardon  your  compositions  because  I  have  'been  obliged  to 
read  them,  and  they  are  too  bad  for  me  ever  to  forget 
them.'' 


CHAPTER  XVn. 

May  10. 

Set  out  again  from  Rochester. 

I  recommend '  Congress  Hall'  to  all  travellers  who  attach 
any  importance  to  an  excellent  table,  prompt  attention,  and 
an  affable  and  attentive  welcome  from  a  landlord. 

Arrived  at  Lockport  at  two  o'clock.  It  pours  rain — the 
streets  are  lakes  of  mud — every  gutter  is  a  cataract.  I 
confess  that  if  I  was  the  public  I  would  pay  double  what 
one  of  my  tickets  costs  not  to  go  to  the  concert  this  evening. 

Few  at  the  concert ;  but  those  who  have  braved  the  in- 
clemency of  such  weather  are  evidently  musical  amateurs, 
and  I  did  my  best.  My  principle  is,  the  smaller  the  audi- 
ence the  more  I  apply  myself.  Artists  in  general  act  differ- 
ently under  the  same  circumstances.  Are  the  receipts  small, 
you  see  them  assume  an  indifferent  air,  play  or  sing  by 
halves,  cut  down  their  pieces,  shorten  their  programme ; 
and  in  acting  thus  they  are  ungrateful,  illogical,  unjust, 
dishonest,  and  unworthy  the  name  of  artists.  Ungrateful, 
25 


290  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

because  they  make  their  bad  humour  bear  upon  those  who 
justly  have  a  right  to  their  favour.  Unjust,  because  those 
who  are  present  should  not  be  responsible  for  the  absent. 
Illogical,  because  one  might  bet  everything  that  those  who 
to  go  to  a  concert  brave  the  obstacles  which  have  prevented 
the  majority  from  going,  are  true  judges  of  music,  who 
understand  it,  and  to  whom  the  artist,  certain  of  being 
appreciated,  should  endeavour  to  present  himself  in  his 
best  light.  Dishonest,  because  the  person  who  has  paid  for 
his  ticket  has  a  right  to  demand  all  that  is  promised  on  the 
programme ;  and,  finally,  they  are  unworthy  of  their  pro- 
fession, because  the  love  of  lucre  is  with  them  greater  than 
that  of  art,  and  he  is  not  a  true  artist  who  measures  the 
sum  of  emotions  and  inspirations  which  flow  from  his  soul 
by  the  sum  of  dollars  and  cents  which  have  entered  into 
his  coffer.  Inspiration  is  not  commanded,  I  know  it.  The 
public  could  not  command  it  for  its  money.  The  programme 
does  not  lead  them  to  think  so,  but,  to  be  true  to  themselves, 
artists  should  do  what  they  ought  to  do.  As  to  inspiration 
it  is  independent  of  the  will.  It  has  happened  to  me  to 
play  horribly  betbre  crowded  halls,  and  before  intelligent 
audiences ;  and  on  the  contrary  to  play  in  villages,  and  before 
audiences  who  hardly  understood  it,  in  such  a  way  as  to 
please  myself,  a  very  difficult  thing ! 

Wednesday,  May  11. 

Set  out  again  from  Lockport  for  Toronto  (Canada). 

Awakened  at  six  o'clock  this  morning  by  that  cursed 
gong.  Is  it  possible  that  in  this  nineteenth  century,  in  the 
midst  of  a  republic,  in  a  civilized  society,  this  last  vestige 
of  barbarism  should  not  yet  be  abolished?  What!  I  am 
in  a  hotel.     I  pay  for  the  purpose  of  finding  there  board 


and  lodging,  which  includes  sleep.     I  am  neither  colleojian, 

•  galley-slave,  nor  slave,  much  less  a  soldier,  that  is 
say,  I  am  not  obliged  to  be  subjected  to  discipline ;  and 


nevertheless  an  autocratic  landlord,  whom  I  pay  in  order 
to  promote  my  comfort,  shall  have  the  right  to  violently 
destroy  my  sleep,  and  brutally  draw  me  from  my  repose  at 
any  hour  that  shall  please  him,  as  if  I  were  his  property: 
and  you  and  I  support  this  barbarous  tyranny?  No  one  of 
those  around  me  murmurs.    Custom  is  everj^thing  with  the 


AN  UNFOR TUNA  TE  SERMON,  291 

Anglo-Saxon.  The  empire  of  routine  holds  him  in  leading 
strings.  That  the  proprietor  of  a  hotel  should  think  of 
ordering  that  his  guests  should  not  drink  more  than  a  certain 
quantity  daily, — ^would  you  not  revolt  at  it  ?  Is  it  not  never- 
theless as  despotic  to  require  that  you  should  be  awakened 
at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning?  But  as  from  time  imme- 
morial, hotel  keepers  have  arrogated  to  themselves  the 
right  of  not  permitting  us  to  sleep  after  a  certain  hour, 
we  quietly  submit  to  it. 

It  pours  rain.  The  heavens  are  like  lead,  and  it  is  cold ; 
decidedly  this  spring  is  hostile  to  us ;  for  one  month,  out 
of  twenty  soirees,  sixteen  at  least  have  been  with  a  pouring 
rain.  There  goes  again  another  leaf  torn  from  the  tree  of 
my  illusions.  This  beautiful  month  of  May,  so  poetical, 
so  much  sung  by  the  poets,  is  a  myth. 

Last  Sund!ay  at  mass  the  preacher  took  for  the  subject  of 
his  sermon  the  worship  which  the  Catholic  Church  gives 
to  the  Virgin  Mary.  "  The  beautiful  month  of  May  has 
been  especially  consecrated  to  her,"  and  the  occasion  oftering 
itself  to  make  use  of  a  little  rhetoric,  he  commenced  by  pre- 
senting to  us  nature  awakening  in  the  spring,  tMfe  buds  first 
becommg  green,  the  flowers  exhaling  their  perfumes  to  the 
breeze.  "The  sun,  etc.  etc.  etc."  Here,  the  sky,  which 
has  been  cloudy  since  the  morning,  opened  to  let  pass  (a 
ray  of  sunlight,  you  will  say) — no !  lightning,  after  a  clap 
of  thunder,  followed  by  a  deluge  of  rain,  mingled  with  hail. 
The  poor  priest,  who  had  prepared  his  sermon  in  prospect 
of  a  month  of  May,  like  all  others,  was  completely  taken 
aback,  and  comprehending  that  the  breeze,  perfumed  by 
the  flowers,  and  the  sun  no  longer  agreed  with  a  dull,  rainy 
month,  full  of  storms,  tornadoes,  and  of  bad  designs,  re- 
signed himself  to  making  a  sacrifice  of  his  rhetoric,  and 
soon  finished  his  sermon. 

One  hour  of  detention  at  Hamilton  en  route  for  Toronto. 
Some  days  since,  on  arriving  at  a  small  place,  a  local  paper 
fell  into  our  hands,  and  we  read  in  it  a  diatribe  of  one  hun- 
dred lines  against  fashionable  music,  the  Italians,  the  Ger- 
mans, in  one  word,  against  every  species  of  art  which  is 
not  so  elevated  as  the  music  of  the  Christy  minstrels.  Our 
agent  had  neglected  to  give  this  Athenian  my  announce- 
ment, and  he  revenged  liimself  for  it  after  the  manner  of 


292  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

angry  children,  who  beat  themselves  with  their  fists.  Our 
man  by  this  proceeding  showed  himself  in  all  his  folly. 
Our  concert  took  place  the  same  evening,  and  the  good  man 
with  infernal  malice  finished  his  article  by  letting  fly  at  us 
a  poisoned  arrow.  "This  was  written  many  days  since, 
but  we  did  not  publish  it,  because  we  did  not  wish  to  do 
harm  to  the  concerts  which  were  about  to  take  place. 
Having  examined  our  columns,  and  assured  ourselves  that  no 
concert  was  about  to  take  place,  we  have  decided  to  publish 
it."  Max,  who  is  patience  itself  provided  no  one  touches 
his  interests,  became  red  with  rage  on  reading  the  article. 
He  saw  only  the  last  paragraph,  "that  there  was  no  concert 
about  to  take  place,"  which  was  calculated  to  keep  away 
many  of  our  audience.  He  called  on  the  editor,  and  with 
the  most  agreeable  air  in  the  world,  introduced  himself. 

Max,  "I  am  your  servant,  sir.     My  name  is  Strakosch." 

Editor.  "Ahr 

Max.  "I  regret  that  you  thought  proper  to  publish  that 
article." 

Editor  (with  a  stiff  air).     "Those,  sir,  are  my  opinions." 

Max.  "f  am  sorry  for  it  (with  a  gracious  air),  but  per- 
haps you  will  come  to  the  concert?" 

Editor  (enchanted,  but  not  wishing  it  to  be  seen).  "  Hem !" 

Max.  "Have  you  a  family?" 

Editor.  "My  stars,  yes !  I  think  that  four  or  five  tickets 
would  do." 

Max.  "I  am  delighted!  You  will  find  them,  sir,  at  your 
disposal  at  the  music  store,  where  they  will  cost  you  only 
seventy-five  cents  each." 

And  he  returned  charmed  with  his  revenge.  I  figure  to 
myself  the  discomfiture  of  the  editor.  But  the  conse- 
quences !  Poor  Strakosch !  the  editor  will  have  his  revenge, 
and  if  you  ever  return  here  (which  probably  you  will  have 
the  good  sense  never  to  do)  you  may  expect  to  receive  his 
broadsides.  I  pity  you,  or  rather  I  pity  the  artists  for 
whom  you  will  be  the  impressario,  for  it  will  be  on  them, 
as  being  the  only  vulnerable  point  of  the  impressario,  that 
will  fall  the  blows,  like  those  coachmen  who  strike  the 
horses  of  their  rivals  with  heavy  blows  of  their  whips 
whenever  they  meet  them. 

In  the  last  month  of  June  I  gave  thirty-three  concerts  in 


PARADISE  AND  HELL  OF  PIANISTS,  298 

twenty-six  days.  In  fourteen  months  (during  which  I  have 
remained  idle  only  fifty  daysj  I  have  given  more  than  four 
hundred  concerts,  and  travelled  more  than  forty  thousand 
miles  by  railroad.  This  reminds  me  of  the  story  by  the 
son  of  Alexandre  Dumas,  where  his  hero  laid  a  wager  to 
live  a  whole  month  exclusively  on  pigeon !  The  first  eight 
days  did  very  well.  The  second  week  this  insipid  flesh 
began  to  disgust  him.  The  twentieth  day  he  had  a  horror 
of  it,  and  on  the  thirtieth  (for  he  heroicalljr  won  his  bet) 
the  sight  only  of  a  pigeon's  feather  gave  him  a  fever  and 
sea-sickness !  I  am  the  same  with  my  concerts ;  the  sight 
of  an  audience  gives  me  a  nausea,  and  every  evening  in  sit- 
ting down  in  front  of  the  audience,  to  the  key-board,  to 
which  pitiless  fate  has  devoted  me,  I  experience  the  pangs 
of  the  thirtieth  day  of  pigeon  in  Dumas'  story.  I  am 
pleased  to  think  that  beyond  the  tomb  concerts  exist  only 
in  the  memory  like  the  nightmare  we  recall  to  ourselves 
confusedly  in  the  morning  which  has  painfully  disturbed 
our  sleep.  The  Orientals  people  their  paradise  with  mar- 
vellous houris ;  the  Indians  fill  theirs  with  prairies  full  of 
game  where  the  chase  is  eternal.  I  love  to  figure  to  myself 
that  in  the  paradise  where  I  shall  go  (?)  the  local  laws  strictly 
prohibit  ever  playing  music  in  public  for  money,  under 
the  penalty  of  listening  twenty  times  successively  to  '  La 
reverie  de  Rosellen.'  On  the  other  side  I  represent  hell  to 
myself  as  being  the  general  entrepot  of  all  pianos — ^square, 
grand,  upright,  and  oblique — ^an  infernal  Botany  Bay  for 
the  practice  of  hardened  pianists,  in  which  an  audience  of 
the  damned  listen  to  an  eternal  'Reverie  de  Rosellen,' 
played  to  the  consummation  of  the  ages  by  pianists,  in- 
habitants of  the  sombre  empire!  Hey!  What  do  you  say 
to  it?  It  makes  one  shudder  only  to  think  of  it,  and  Dante, 
had  he  known  of  the  piano,  would  he  have  failed,  think 
you,  to  have  made  it  take  a  part  of  that  frightful  torment 
in  his  'Inferno'?  No,  certainly,  and  if  to  the  'Reverie  de 
Rosellen,'  he  had  added  the  'Donna  e  Mobile,'  and  'The 
Maiden's  Prayer,'  of  Miss  Bardazewska,  I  do  not  doubt  that 
Ugolino  himself  would  have  been  comparatively  happy  in 
not  belonging  to  this  honourable  artistic  corporation. 

Sometimes  I  find  myself  retarded  on  the  road  by  some 
accident  or  unforeseen  circumstance.     I  then  dispatch  a 

25* 


294  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

telegram  to  my  agent  and  the  hour  for  the  concert  is  made 
later ;  but  it  also  happens  sometimes  that  the  telegram  arrives 
too  late  for  him  to  publish  it.  The  audience  already  assem- 
bled in  the  hall  becomes  agitated  and  restless  at  not  seeing 
the  artist  appear.  My  telegraphic  dispatch  arrives,  and  Stra- 
kosch  reads  it  to  the  audience  oftering  to  return  the  money 
to  those  v^ho  have  not  the  patience  to  await  my  arrival.  A 
telegram  from  Strakosch  in  answer  to  mine,  which  I  gene- 
rally receive  at  the  next  station,  makes  me  aware  of  its 
decision.  Then,  if  it  is  willing  to  wait  for  me,  I  send,  from 
station  to  station,  a  telegram  which  my  agent  reads  to  the 
audience  to  keep  it  in  patience.  This  calms  it.  Soon 
there  is  established  between  us  a  sympathetic  tie.  It  be- 
comes interested  in  the  unknown  traveller  whose  thought 
traverses  space  to  communicate  with  that  of  the  crowd 
anxious  to  see  him.  Every  one  converses  with  his  neigh- 
bour; the  young  ^irls  flirt  with  their  beaux;  the  papas 
sleep,  or  talk  of  Erie  or  of  American  gold ;  the  hall  is  trans- 
formed into  a  vast  friendly  Tertulia.  As  the  telegraphic 
dispatches  follow  each  other,  the  enthusiasm  augments.  I 
am  seen  approaching  more  than  twenty  miles,  no  more  than 
ten  miles  off,  the  last  stations  are  generally  traversed 
amidst  the  expectant  enthusiasm  of  the-whole  hall.  The 
excitement  becomes  so  great  that  they  almost  embrace 
each  other. 

(N.  B.)  If  I  were  one  of  the  audience,  by-the-bye,  I  should 
not  have  the  least  objection  in  yielding  (with  discrimination) 
to  this  affectionate  demonstration. 

Strakosch  then  appears  and  with  tremulous  voice  says, 
wiping  his  forehead  as  if  he  had  just  pulled  the  train,  so 
impatiently  awaited,  more  than  fifty  miles  (or  rather  like 
an  impressario  who  after  having  thought  his  receipts  were 
shipwrecked  sees  them  riding  at  anchor  at  the  bottom  of 
his  coffers),  these  solemn  words  which  the  audience  re- 
ceives with  a  tattoo  of  '  hurrahs :'  "  Ladies  and  gentlemen, 
I  have  the  honour  of  announcing  to  you  that  Mr.  Gottschalk 
has  just  arrived."  I  then  make  my  entree  upon  the  scene, 
and  the  tattoo  of  the  audience  goes  on  increasing,  swells, 
and  takes  such  boisterous  proportions  that  I  should  not 
know  how  to  give  you  an  idea  of  it,  unless  you  have  heard 
the  finale  of  '  lone'  of  Maestro  Petrella,  or  that  of '  Medea' 


THE  CHAMPION  OF  CONCERTS.  295 

of  Maestro  Pacini,  which,  to  my  notion,  are  the  two  most 
deafening  musical  abominations  which  have  ever  been  com- 
mitted, since  the  invention  of  the  bass  drum,  the  cymbak, 
and  the  whole  kitchen  battery  of  modern  instrumentation. 
I  designedly  enlarge  upon  this,  because  it  is  characteristic 
of  an  American  audience,  and  a  novel  and  wholly  local 
phase  in  the  physiology  of  concerts  in  the  United  States. 

Kothing,  latterly,  worthy  of  notice  in  my  concerts  unless 
it  is  a  few  lines  giving  an  account  of  one  of  the  last  (favour- 
ably, I  am  bound  to  acknowledge),  mentioning  that  "  Mr. 
Gottschalk  played  his  'Cradle  Song,'  for  two  pianos,  with 

Mr.   L ,  and  with  magnificent  eftect."    The  '  Cradle 

Song'  for  two  pianos !  I  pity  the  poor  baby  who  should  be 
condemned  to  be  cradled  under  the  magnificent  eftect  of  two 
pianos.  This  brings  to  my  mind  by  contrast  the  '  Marche 
du  Prophete'  which  I  saw  at  Havana  arranged  for  the 
flageolet  with  guitar  accompaniment !  It  is  probable  that 
the  chronicler  of  this  concert,  having  gone  to  sleep  after  din- 
ner (without  the  aid  of  the  two  pianos  in  question),  may 
have  written  on  the  faith  of  the  programme  and  of  the  pro- 
babilities, but  that  his  pen  still  benumbed  confounded  '  La 
Fantaisie  Triomphale'  on  '  Trovatore'  for  two  pianos  with 
the  'Cradle  Song,'  which  the  programme  announced  for 
the  same  evening. 

In  the  paragraph  extracted  from  my  last  letter  to  the 
*Home  JouniaP  the  editor  committed  an  error  which  many 
of  the  other  papers  reproduced  and  which  I  wish  to  rectitV. 
"Gottschalk,  it  is  said,  has  ffiven  in  the  United  States  nearly 
one  thousand  concerts  and  has  travelled  by  rail  and  steam- 
boat nearly  eight  thousand  miles."  It  should  read  not 
eight  thousand  but  eighty  thousand  miles.  Eight  thou- 
sand miles  in  two  j^ears  are  simply  a  trifle  that  the  smallest 
learned  animal,  giant,  dwarf,  phenomenon,  or  travelling 
pianist  who  has  speculated  on  the  country  can  boast 
having  done,  and  the  rights  which  I  demand  as  the 
champion  of  concerts  and  of  perambulation  on  railroads 
would  be  as  doubtful  as  those  of  the  King  of  Sardinia  to 
the  kingdom  of  Jerusalem,  or  of  those  of  Richard  Wagner 
to  the  coming  races,  if  I  had  only  a  credit  on  the  ledger  of 
posterity  for  eight  thousand  miserable  little  miles! !  But 
it  is  eighty  thousand  miles  which  I  have  travelled  in  less 


296  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

than  two  years,  giving  on  an  average  three  concerts  every 
two  days.  It  is  almost  as  notable  as  Doctor  (?)  Winship, 
of  Boston,  who  raises  four  thousand  pounds,  or  the  young 
Connecticut  girl  that  Barnum  exhibits  who  weighs  six 
hundred  pounds.  My  detractors  can  deny  me  everything 
in  the  future,  I  care  little  about  it.  They  can  say  that 
I  play  only  my  own  music,  and  that  it  is  bad;  that  I 
wear  gloves  at  my  concerts  (how  horrible!);  that  I  wipe  my 
fingers  before  commencing  to  play,  with  my  handkerchief 
which  I  take  from  my  pocket  (what  a  shame!):  all  these 
things  form  the  subject  of  a  widely  extended,  anonymous 
correspondence,  with  which  a  crowd  of  austere  lovers  of 
art  gratify  me  every  morning,  whose  little  bilious  spite  is 
alleviated  by  telling  me  confidentig;lly  the  most  disagree- 
able things  in  the  world. 

From  the  height  of  my  eighty  thousand  miles  I  defy 
the  whole  world,  and  if  my  enemies  after  having  dislodged 
me  from  so  many  other  positions  attempt  to  dispute  with 
me  the  possession  of  this  last  bulwark,  I  solemnly  declare 
to  them  that  I  shall  defend  it  with  the  energy  of  despair. 

ANECDOTES  OF  KALKBRENNER  AND  OTHERS. 

Kalkbrenner,  who  by  his  didactic  works  is  recom- 
mended to  the  respect  of  artists,  but  whose  compositions 
by  their  vacuity  are  condemned  to  never  being  played, 
had  a  cold,  neat,  limpid  execution,  and  a  pure  but  super- 
ficial and  tedious  style.  The  perfect  elegance  of  his  man- 
ners, his  cultivated  intelligence,  and  his  talent  gave  him 
freat  success  in  society,  but  his  extreme  vanity,  which  had 
ecome  proverbial,  had  in  time  rendered  him  insupportable. 
He  thought  himself  infallible  in  everything,  and  had  said 
forcibly  like  a  celebrated  dancer  of  the  last  century,  Vestris^ 
I  think,  "there  are  in  Europe  three  great  men — ^Voltaire, 
Frederick,  and  myself."  His  best  pupil,  Stamaty,  a  fellow- 
scholar  with  Osborne,  the  fortunate  fellow-labourer  of 
Beriot  in  one  hundred  duos  for  the  piano  and  violin,  was 
my  teacher  for  seven  years.  In  1844,  then  very  young,  I 
gave  at  Paris  a  soiree  to  which  all  the  illustrious  pianists 
of  the  period  were  invited,  among  others  Kalkbrenner.  I 
played  Chopin's  concerto  in  E  minor,  Thalberg's  fantasia 


KALKBRENNER.  297 

of  ^Semiramide,'  and  that  of  Liszt's  'Robert  le  Diable.' 
The  next  day  I  went  to  thank  Kalkbrenner  for  having  come 
to  hear  me.  This  attention  softened  a  little  the  generally 
sour  disposition  of  the  old  pianist,  who  did  not  forgive 
the  new  school  for  knowing  something;  he  took  my  hand 
and  said  to  me  with  an  air  of  majestic  condescension, 
"The  style  is  good ;  as  for  the  rest  there  is  nothing  astonish- 
ing; you  are  my  grandchild  (alluding  to  Stamaty,  who 
was  his  pupil),  but,  for  God's  sake,  who  advised  you  to 
play  such  music  ?  Chopin !  I  hardly  pardon  you ;  but  Liszt 
and  Thalberg,  what  rhapsodies !  W  h  v  did  you  not  play 
one  of  my  pieces?  they  are  beautiful,  please  everybody, 
and  are  classical !" 

E^alkbrenner  had  a  son  whom  he  hoped  to  make  the 
inheritor  of  his  glory,  but  who,  after  having  been  an  infant 
prodigy,  aborted  and  became  a  prodigious  nullity.  One 
night  after  having  boasted  before  the  French  Court  of  the 
improvisation  of  his  child,  then  eight  years  old,  the  king 
expressed  his  desire  to  hear  one  of  these  marvellous  inspi- 
rations. The  child  placed  himself  at  the  piano  and  played 
for  some  minutes,  then  stopping  all  at  once,  he  turned 
towards  his  father  and  artlessly  said  to  him,  "Papa,  I  have 
fo^otten — ." 

Kalkbrenner  lived,  when  I  was  introduced  to  him,  in 
the  quarter  of  Paris  called  Cite  d'Orleans.  This  Cite  d'Or- 
leans  was  a  kind  of  artists'  hive.  You  reached  it  through 
a  narrow  alley  which  opened  into  an  interior  court  around 
which  many  elegant  pavilions  were  clustered. 

The  first  which  met  the  eye  was  occupied  on  the  ground 
floor  by  Zimmerman,  the  director  of  the  piano  classes  at 
the  Paris  Conservatoire.  A  wearisome  pianist,  a  pedantic 
and  ordinary  composer,  he  was  nevertheless  an  excellent 
professor,  and  it  was  he  who  formed  Prudent,  Goria,  and 
all  the  pianists  of  the  French  school.  On  my  arrival  at 
Parig  he  had  refused  me  admission  to  the  Conservatoire, 
saying  that  "  America  was  the  country  of  railroads  but  not 
of  musicians." 

On  the  first  floor  was  the  atelier  of  Dantan,  the  cele- 
brated sculptor  who  has  made  the  busts  of  every  illustrious 
artist  of  this  century.  The  pavilion  alongside  was  occu- 
pied by  Georges  Sand  when  she  was  in  Pans,  and  alongside 


298  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

of  hers  came  that  of  Chopin.    Opposite  Count ,  an 

old  amateur  who  speculated  on  the  reputation  of  a  man  of 
influence  to  gather  to  his  house  all  the  artists  in  vogue  to 
play  and  sing  without  its  ever  costing  him  a  penny  (this 

species  of  Count  de is  often  found),  alongside  of  him 

K!alkbrenner  lived. 

Orfila,  the  great  chemist,  was  the  friend  of  Kiilkbremier, 
whose  whims  he  ridiculed  unmercifully.  I  heard  him 
relate  the  following  anecdote  one  day  that  I  dined  with 
him,  and  a  salad  was  served  for  which  Kalkbrenner  had 
invented  the  seasoning.  Among  other  pretensions  the 
latter  boasted  that  he  entertained  oetter  than  anybody  else, 
and  as  to  etiquette  many  sovereigns  *  had  taken  counsel  of 
his  knowledge  in  delicate  cases. 

"  I  gave  a  dinner  to  the  chiefs  of  the  Academy  of  Sciences 
and  Medicine  of  which  I  was  dean  (it  is  Orfila  who  speaks). 
The  French  Princes  were  also  invited,  and  many  other 
illustrious  persons.  The  number  of  my  servants  not  being 
suflicient,  I  engaged  some  more ;  whether  it  was  owing  to 
ignorance  of  their  duty,  or  that  they  were  frightened  at  the 
eight  of  such  an  imposing  assembly,  one  of  them  handed  a 
plate  to  Kalkbrenner  on  his  right  side.  Kalkbrenner, 
finding  himself  eclipsed  by  the  presence  of  so  many  great 
names,  and  suflfering  impatiently  from  being  relegated  to 
an  inferior  place,  took  care,  as  you  may  well  suppose,  to 
seize  the  occasion  to  make  himself  noticed.  '  My  friend,' 
paid  he,  in  an  assumed  manner  to  the  unfortunate  servant, 
*  when  atiy  one  has  the  honour  of  waiting  on  guests  as  dis- 
tinguished as  we  are,  he  ought  not  to  be  i^iorant  that 
plates  are  to  be  handed  on  tkeCefl/  And  on  this  he  bridled 
up,  and,  the  servant  having  changed  his  position,  he  helped 
himself  plenteously  from  the  dish.  Some  time  after  this, 
Kalkbrenner  also  gave  a  dinner.  It  so  happened  that  one 
of  the  servants  in  taking  a  dish  off  the  table  upset  the  sauce 
on  my  head  (and  on  saying  this  Orfila  showed  us  his  head, 
on  which  there  was  no  longer  a  hair).  *  My  friend,'  I  said 
to  the  poor  servant,  stupetied  b^  his  awkwardness, '  when 
any  one  has  the  honour  of  waiting  on  such  distinguished 
guests  as  we  are,  he  ought  not  to  be  ignorant  that  he  must 
not  upset  sauce  on  their  heads.'  Kalkbrenner  understood 
the  lesson,  and  found  it  so  much  the  more  bitter  as  he 


ORFILA  AND  THE  DOCTORS.  299 

liked,  as  I  have  said,  to  entertain,  and  boasted  that  every- 
thing at  his  house  followed  the  rules  of  court  etiquette,  of 
which  he  had  instituted  himself  grand  master." 

Orfila  every  Thursday  gave  a  dinner  to  his  friends.  It 
was  at  the  period  of  the  cholera :  twelve  hundred  persons 
died  daily  of  this  horrible  disease.  All  the  doctors  ordered 
a  rigorous  diet.  "  They  are  asses,"  said  Orfila,  laughing ; 
and  he  continued  to  give  his  friends  (who  nevertheless 
found  themselves  no  worse  for  it)  everything  which  was 
then  considered  as  tending  to  engender  the  prevailing  dis- 
ease— salads,  ice-creams,  and  fruit.  "  They  are  asses,  and 
the  proof  is  that,  after  having  killed  me  eighteen  years 
ago,  they  were  not  able  to  discover  that  I  was  not  dead." 
Indeed,  in  a  terrible  illness  which  he  had,  he  fell  into 
a  cataleptic  state  which  presented  such  appearances  of 
death  that  the  physicians  were  deceived  for  many  hours. 
He  was  present,  without  being  able  to  move,  at  the  prepa- 
rations for  his  burial,  and  heard  the  conversations  of  the 
doctors  who  relieved  each  other,  near  to  him,  and  made 
their  observations  on  the  deceased.  "  It  is  since  my  death 
that  I  have  become  disgusted  with  life,"  said  he  with  a 
comic  seriousness,  which  leads  us  to  suppose  that  the  dean 
of  the  Academy  had  been  but  moderately  satisfied  with  the 
funeral  orations  which  he  heard  made. 

It  Was  at  these  dinners  that  I  became  acquainted  with 
the  most  celebrated  doctors  and  surgeons  of  the  time. 
Trousseau,  who  began  to  make  himself  known,  and  at  that 
time  devoted  his  leisure  to  a  pretty  American ;  Boyer,  the 
venerable  chief  of  chemistry  at  the  Hotel  Dieu ;  Ricord, 
the  artists'  doctor ;  Pasquier,  the  doctor  for  children  and  of 
King  Louis  Philippe;  Maisonneuve,  who  was  already  plan- 
ning his  marvellous  operations ;  Nelaton,  the  surgeon  who 
cured  Garibaldi ;  and  many  others  whose  names  escape  me. 

Orfila,  notwithstanding  the  gravity  of  his  labours  and 
the  austerity  of  his  manners,  took  delight  in  music,  and 
sung  (he  was  sixty  years  old)  with  much  spirit  Italian 
bouffe  music. 


300  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 


CHAPTER  XVni. 

May  11,  1864. 

Arrived  at  Toronto  at  five  o'clock  P.  M.  Toronto  is 
the  oldest  city  in  Canada.  Smaller  than  Montreal,  it  has 
the  advantage  of  being  more  animated.  Its  society  is  more 
hospitable  and  European. 

A  superb  concert.  We  play  and  sing  our  best,  and,  to 
judge  from  the  enthusiasm  of  the  audience,  who  encored 
from  the  first  to  the  last  piece,  we  succeed.  I  will  mention 
an  improvement  over  our  concerts  at  Montreal,  which  is 
that  conversation,  if  there  was  any,  took  place  in  an  under- 
tone that  permitted  the  music  to  be  heard.  No  young 
officers  making  themselves  insupportable  to  their  neigh- 
bours by  their  unseasonable  talking,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
REAL  English  •  gentlemen  who  did  not  think  themselves 
bound  to  show  their  ennui  by  acting  in  a  manner  annoying 
to  the  audience. 

My  amour  propre  for  my  musical  progeny  has  experi- 
enced a  rude  shock  this  evening.  Madam  Strakosch, 
having  been  encored,  took  i1>  into  her  head  to  sing  my 
*  Cradle  Song,'  which  was  not  on  the  programme.  A 
charming  woman  asked  me  the  name  of  that  'frightful  piece^ 
and  who  was  the  composer  of  it  ?  And  this  is  so  much 
the  more  vexatious  as  I  have  not  even  the  consolation  of 
supposing  that  my  pretty  interrogator  was  one  of  my 
enemies  and  chose  this  mode  of  proving  it.  She  had,  the 
perfidious  one,  just  cast  a  dart  at  me,  and  my  vanity, 
which  she  had  thus  sharpened,  rendered  the  candid  opin- 
ion which  she  had  expressed  about  my  latest  born  more 
painful  to  my  paternity.  It  is  salutarv  that,  from  time  to 
time,  we  should  be  recalled  to  the  reality  of  things,  that  is 
to  say,  that,  amidst  the  factitious  atmosphere  of  biassed 
opinions  from  interested  flatterers,  in  the  midst  of  whom 
we  are  pampered,  the  truth  should  reach  us  from  without. 


THE  BARRACKS  AT  TORONTO.  301 

May  12. 

I  went  out  at  eleven  o'clock  to  dine  at  Mr.  Q.'s,  a  Pole 
by  birth,  whom  long  association  with  English  society  has 
rendered  English.  An  engineer  of  great  talent,  he  has 
almost  wholfy  constructed  the  *  Grand  Trunk  Railway.' 
His  elegant  mansion  is  a  model  of  taste  and  of  comfort. 
It  is,  in  one  word,  what  the  house  ought  to  be  of  such  a 
man  as  he,  who  can  offer  and  knows  how  to  bestow  the 
most  courteous  hospitality. 

I  have  visited  the  barracks  of  the  six  batteries  of 
artillery  placed  in  garrison  at  Toronto.  Those  who  are  not 
with  English  soldiers  will  with  difficulty  form  an  idea  of 
the  admirable  order  and  neatness  which  prevail  there. 
The  horses,  all  of  Canadian  race,  are  magnificent  animals, 
treated  with  a  solicitude  and  care  which  struck  me  so 
much  the  more  as  I  have  still  present  in  my  memory  the 
brutal,  cruel,  and  improvident  manner  with  which  I  have 
seen  our  cavalry  horses  treated.  One  of  the  officers,  through 
whose  politeness  I  was  able  to  visit  in  detail  all  the  bar- 
racks, introduced  me  into  the  mess-room  where  the  officers 
take  their  meals.  A  piano  in  one  comer,  two  oratorios  of 
Handel,  and  lying  in  another  corner,  as  if  it  was  ashamed 
of  being  found  in  such  good  oompany,  my  humble  'Cradle 
Song.' 

In  the  coach-houses  where  all  the  harness  was,  I  was 
astonished  at  the  care  with  which  every  bit  of  leather  is 
polished,  every  steel  buckle  cleaned;  and  nevertheless  a 
great  deal  of  the  harness  is  ten  years  old,  and  has  been  used 
m  the  Crimea,  having  been  in  service  at  Alma,  Inkerman, 
and  the  MalakoflF.  In  spite  of  all  this  they  look  new. 
Heard  in  a  music  store  the  fantasia  on  *La  Muette,'  played 
by  a  charming  young  girl.  Miss  C,  an  amateur,  with  most 
remarkable  strength  and  clearness.  I  record  this  fact 
because  it  is  the  first  case  of  native  talent  which  I  have 
met  with  in  Canada. 

Second  concert.  A  great  deal  of  enthusiasm;  neverthe- 
less we  neither  played  nor  sung  so  well  as  yesterday. 

May  13. 

Left  Toronto  at  half-past  twelve  for  Saint  Catherine, 
where  we  arrived  at  half-past  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
26 


302  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

It  poured  rain.  The  pretty  month  of  May  continues  to 
hold  its  own.  I  have  heard  said  that  St.  Catherine  is  pic- 
turesque !  I  seek  in  vain  to  discover  the  beauties  of  a 
country  which  I  have  heard  spoken  of  so  highly.  As  well 
seek  the  beauty  of  a  woman  in  spring  dress  who  should 
have  accidentally  fallen  into  the  water,  and  whom  somebody 
has  just  drawn  out.  The  water  filters  through  the  door 
and  roof  of  the  diligence.  The  streets  are  lakes ;  the  trees, 
the  houses,  the  hedges  are  vaguely  defined  through  the 
compact  lines  made  in  the  atmosphere  by  the  drops  of  rain 
driven  by  the  wind.  The  only  inhabitants  we  meet  are  a 
young  lad  and  an  old  blind  horse,  the  one  carrying  the 
other,  and  wading  and  splashing  furiously  to  get  under 
shelter. 

We  shall  not  make  our  fortune  here.  Behrens,  who 
undertakes,  ad  interim^  the  functions  of  agent,  having  gone 
to  the  office  for  the  sale  of  tickets,  in  a  part  of  which  he  sees 
my  portrait,  inquires  "  Is  it  here  that  tickets  are  sold  ?" 
The  proprietor  facetiously  answers  him  (unkind  man), 
"You  wish  to  say  where  tickets  should  be  sold,  for  we 
have  not  yet  sold  one." 

Seated  before  the  stove  I  am  reading '  John  Marchmont's 
Legacy'  (another  romance  where  lawyers  and  chicanery 
form  the  subject  of  the  book).  When  will  the  time  come 
that  English  romancers  shall  cease  to  explore  the  Court  of 
Chancery,  and  the '  Police  Gazette'  ?  It  is  sad  Ik)  see  money, 
money,  and  always  money,  the  moving  spring  of  all  romances 
from  beyond  the  sea.  A  will,  a  change  of  heirs,  a  false 
heir,  a  fraudulent  will;  no  heirs,  no  will;  and  you  have 
'  Orley  Farm,'  '  ISTo  Name,' '  Woman  in  White,'  '  Aurora 
Floyd,'  etc.  Take  away  the  money  and  chicanery  of  the 
modem  English  school,  and  see  what  remains.  You  will 
reply  to  me  that  French  romances,  which  speak  only  of 
love,  are  immoral.  Granted.  I  do  not  love  romances, 
but  if  I  must  choose  between  the  two  passions,  in  view  of 
the  effects  which  they  produce  I  should  choose  that  which 
at  least  awakens  in  us  noble  ideas,  gives  birth  to  noble 
sacrifices  and  self-denial.  But  then  I  was  reading  before 
the  stove,  and  Max  was  meditating,  after  having  read  the 
last  news  announcing  a  fresh  Federal  victory,  a  jjlan  for  a 
concert  campaign  against  the  South,  when  a  bass  voice  re- 


THE  COLLECTOR  OF  HER  MAJESTY.  803 

quested  to  speak  to  the  agent  of  Mr.  Qottachoff  (why  are 
they  so  obstinate  in  making  my  name  a  Russian  name  ?\ 
The  new  arrival  is  a  pompous,  fat,  short,  apoplectic  indi- 
vidual, who  had  no  need  of  announcing  himself  as  "collec- 
tor of  Her  Majesty's  customs"  for  me  to  know  that  I  had 
the  honour  of  seeing  before  me  an  oflScer  of  the  English 
government.  The  collector  of  Her  Majesty  has  the  im- 
portant and  dignified  air  of  a  judge  who  is  just  pronouncing 
a  severe  sentence.  He  addresses  Strakosch  with  that 
horrid  tone  of  perfidious  politeness  with  which  the  attorney- 
general  examines  a  culprit  whom  he  wishes  to  make  con- 
tradict himself.  "  You  have  two  pianos  ?  Hey,  I  say,  two 
pianos,  both  yours,  and  only  one  on  the  permit." 

"  Yes,  we  have  one  piano  which  we  have  not  declared, 
not  desiring  to  pay  duty,  since  we  only  remain  two  days  in 
Canada." 

"Ah!  yes,  I  see,  certainly.  Has  not  Mr.  Gottschoft* 
played  with  great  success  at  Toronto  ?  I  have  heard  par- 
ticular mention  made  of  a  piece  for  two  pianos  which 
electrified  the  audience !" 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Strakosch,  "the  grand  march  in 
*  Faust.'" 

Her  Majesty* s  officer.    "  For  two  pianos  ?" 

Strakosch.     "  Yes,  sir." 

Contracting  his  brow,  and  in  the  attitude  of  the  lawyer 
of  the  opposite  party  who  has  just  discovered  something 
injurious,  the  oflicer  said,  "  Two  pianos,  sir,  and  you  have 
only  paid  duty  on  one.  The  Queen,  sir,  cannot  thus  be 
robbed,  and  you  will  have  to  pay  the  duty.  The  Qu^en, 
sir,  will  collect  the  duty." 

Strakosch,  vexed  and  beginning  to  get  tired  of  the  char- 
acter of  inquisitor  which  this  old  imbecile  assumed.  "But, 
sir,  this  is  absurd.  You  might  as  well  collect  a  duty  on  the 
clothes  which  I  wear  and  seize  them !" 

The  officer,  indignant  and  red  with  offended  dignity. 
"  Seize  your  clothes,  sir !  The  Queen,  sir,  w^ould  not  do 
such  a  thing.  This  language  is  very  indecent.  I  shall  be 
obliged,  to  my  great  regret,  to  prevent  you  from  using  this 
instrument  this  evening.     Seize  your  clothes !" 

A  dispatch  arrives  next  day.  He  has  seized  my  piano! 
Decidedly,  this  would  have  undeceived  me,  if  I  had  ever 


804  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

believed  what  my  Spanish  sounets  told  me  when  they  com- 
pared me  to  Orpheus  taming  the  wild  beasts.  I  have  not 
been  able  to  tame  this  collector. 

Concert,  notwithstanding  the  rain.  There  were  fifty 
persons  who  applauded  like  five  hundred,  and  for  whom 
we  played  as  if,  in  place  of  thirty  dollars  of  receipts,  we 
had  received  three  hundred. 

Excellent  hotel — ^I  forget,  among  the  audience,  on  the 
first  bench,  sat  my  collector. 

Set  out  from  St.  Catherine  for  Bufialo. 

Americans  have  a  practical  and  utilitarian  spirit  which 
makes  them  reject  all  speculative  theories,  and  they  arrive 
without  question  in  resolving  social  problems  which  in 
Europe  would  frighten  the  greatest  economists.  The  sys- 
tem of  exchanges  adopted  by  the  teachers  of  music  in 
America,  for  instance,  offers  me  an  example.  At  Phila- 
delphia, one  of  my  friends,  a  professor  of  music,  gives 
lessons  on  the  piano  to  two  daughters  of  a  tailor,  who  in 
return  furnishes  him  with  clothes  the  whole  year!  At 
New  Orleans,  a  dentist  offered,  if  I  would  give  him  tickets 
for  him  and  his  children,  to  attend  me  professionally  for 
an  operation  of  which  I  stood  in  need. 

we  are  just  crossing  that  audacious  marvel  of  science, 
that  incomparable  monument  of  human  genius  which  is 
called  the  ISTiagara  Suspension  Bridge.  My  last  visit  to 
Niagara  was  in  December  with  Mdlle.  Cordier  (to  speak  of 
it  in  detail).  The  country  is  inundated.  A  traveller,  who 
was  this  morning  at  Buffalo,  assures  me  that  the  lower 
quarter  of  the  town  is  completely  submerged,  and  that  they 
are  navigating  it  on  rafts.  "  Pretty  month  of  May !"  The 
rain  seems  to  increase  every  minute. 

Was  I  not  right  in  saying  that  it  was  we  who  would 
pay  for  Strakosch's  wit  with  the  country  editor  ?  Here  is^ 
among  other  things,  what  his  bile  has  suggested  on  my 
account :  "  Gottschalk  has  played  in  the  most  abominable, 
banging,  screeching  manner,  torturing  his  piano  and  draw- 
ing from  it  the  most  inhuman  sounds."  Ah,  Strakosch ! 
May  this  critic  be  light  on  you.  And  let  us  hope  that, 
after  having  thus  cast  upon  me  all  his  venom,  this  terrible 
editor  may  peaceably  return  to  his  daily  duty  without 
persisting  any  further  in  his  subversive  and  Corkonian 


NOTES  ON  CANADA.  805 

theories  of  music.  For  raj  own  part,  I  ask  no  more  of 
him ;  and  I  admit  that,  if  I  had  had  as  much  to  complain 
of  from  one  of  his  employes  as  he  had  of  Strakosch,  I 
should  have  been  still  more  severe  on  his  prose  than  he  has 
been  on  my  music,  and,  perhaps,  neither  of  us  would  have 
done  wrong. 

Brilliant  concert  at  Buffalo. 

I  have  taken  a  multitude  of  notes  on  Canada.  What  a 
frightful  country !  It  is  enough  to  let  you  know  that  it  is 
essentially  Catholic — ^Irish  and  French  (what  French? 
Low  Normans  of  the  seventeenth  century)  vieinff  with 
each  other  in  fervent  rage,  that  is,  as  to  which  shall  have 
the  most  churches,  sermons,  monks,  and  of  white,  black, 
and  gray  nuns.  The  Oblate  Fathers,  who  promenade  Quebec 
in  their  filthy  cassocks,  are  only  hypocritical  forms  out- 
rageously rubicund  and  oily,  or  ignobly  emaciated  and 
famished.  The  pulpit  is  a  throne;  the  confessional  a 
citadel.  I  despair  of  humanity.  Quebec  exhales  the  en- 
feebling bigotry  of  a  population  preserved  in  ignorance  and 
brutishness.  The  children  are  weakly,  and  there  are  many 
idiots  and  deformed.  The  skilled  native  pianists  balance 
between  'La  Violette'  by  Herzt  and  *l'Ange  dechu'  of 
Kalkbrenner.  The  Chevalier  Gouanfere  is  a  genius,  La 
Harpe  the  first  French  poet.  The  old  French  families 
who  possess  property  are  called  'Les  Sagneurs  de  St. 
Herem,  de  la  Montague,  ou  de  St.  Maurice.'  The  popu- 
lation of  Lower  Canada — ^base,  lazy,  slavish,  and  supersti- 
tious— is  despised  by  the  English.  It  returns  it  in  jealous 
hatred.  Every  Sunday  in  the  sermon  at  high  mass  this 
phrase  invariably  reappears :  "Above  all,  my  children,  do 
not  sully  yourselves  by  entering  the  threshold  of  those 
dens  of  perdition  called  theatres."  They  permit  magic- 
lanterns,  the  circus,  and  puppet  shows. 

The  polka  is  forbidden ;  the  waltz  prohibited  ;  the  lan- 
cers is  tolerated.  Judge  of  the  intellectual  level  with  this 
regime !  The  women  are  thin,  with  sallow  complexions. 
The  walls,  the  houses,  the  streets  distil  ennui.  Every 
moment  young  men  are  seen  in  long  blue  surtouts  (the 
old  Levite)  with  yellow  edging  (!)  and  green  scarfs  wound 
around  their  waists.  These  are  the  college  students, 
which,  it  is  useless  to  say,  are  directed  by  the  priests. 

26* 


306  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

Bossuet  is  the  greatest  of  philosphers ;  Voltaire  is  a  black- 
guard, whose  crimes  they  pardon  on  account  of  his  miser- 
able death  and  his  return  in  extremis  to  eternal  truth  (?). 

The  Pope  is  a  martyr,  and  Garibaldi  a  highway  robber. 
They  have  made  (for  the  Pope)  a  magnificent  subscription. 
They  brand  with  the  name  of  demagogues,  lukewarm  and 
hardened,  those  who  have  not  contributed  to  St.  Peter's 
pence.  Not  one  music  store.  In  the  window  of  a  book- 
seller, who  sells  the  complete  works  of  Mov seigneur 
Dupanloupy  a  copy  of  '  Home,  Sweet  Home'  of  Thalberg 
and  *  Last  Hope  of  Gottschalk  constitute  the  whole  pro^ 
fane  catalogue.  In  return,  a  great  number  of  hynms  to 
Mary. 

In  politics,  they  still  play,  whistle,  and  sing '  Dixie.'  The 
audience  calls  to  the  orchestra  every  evening  {tous  les 
sonars)  for  '  Dixie'  as  in  '48  at  Paris  they  called  for  the 
'  Marseillaise.' 

Names  in  Lower  Canada  have  this  peculiarity  about 
them,  that  they  always  signify  something.  Do  they  not 
seem  to  be  taken  from  a  chapter  of  PauTde  Kock?  On 
reflecting  upon  them  a  little,  we  easily  find  their  origin  in 
the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries.  The  French 
soldiers  were  known,  not  by  their  names,  but  only  by  their 
nicknames.  They  were  almost  the  only  colonists  of  Lower 
Canadia,;an|i:frQjpjthem  probably  all  these  singular  names 
are  deriveji. 

November  1,  1864. 

Here  I  am  again  travelling  after  a  long  repose,  if  I  may 
call  repose  four  months  without  concerts, hut  filled  in  with 
three  weeks  of  laborious  idleness  at  Saratoga,  followed  by 
many  others,  devoted  to  correcting  proofs,  scribbling  an 
article  for  the  '  Atlantic  Monthly,'  m  writing  ten  or  twelve 
letters  daily,  in  composing  five  new  contraband  pieces 
which  are  to  be  published  under  the  segis  of  a  borrowed 
paternity,'  and  five  or  six  pieces,  which  if  not  good  are 
pure  Gottschalk  lucubrations  which  are  just  about  to  be 

'  The  author  composed  onder  the  nom  de  plvme  of  *  7  Octaves'  some 
charming  Uttle  pieces,  but  more  easy  of  execution  than  his  ordinary  ones. 


GRAND  ITALIAN  OPERA  COMPANY.  S07 

launched  into  the  serene  eternity  of  oblivion,  or  into  the 
ocean  of  criticism  and  malevolence. 

I  appeared  once  in  public,  a  month  ago,  in  a  charity  con- 
cert organized  by  some  ladies.  God  protect  you  from 
charitv  concerts  and  from  lady  patronesses !  Both  are  at 
first  sight  an  abuse,  and  the  public  cares  little  if  the  artist 
has  or  nas  not  given  his  services.  (Here  speak  of  the  fero- 
cious public.)  To  relate  the  concert  of  WoUenhaupt. 
Hissed  outrageously. 

I  met  here  day  before  yesterday  *  The  Associated  Com- 
pany of  Artists' — ^Testa  and  his  wife,  the  tenor  Stefani, 

Amodio,and  Madame  Lorini,andthe  Maestro ,Behrens, 

of  gastronomic  and  punning  memory.  It  is  the  Neapoli- 
tan Devivo  who  manages  the  whole  thing.  This  troupe 
proudly  calls  itself  on  the  playbills  *  Grand  Italian  Opera 
Company.'  Their  list  of  plays  consists  of  'Trovatore,' 
'  Lucia,' '  Lucrezia,'  and  many  other  operas.  Certain  male- 
volent spirits  might  perhaps  remark  that  the  absence  of 
choruses  and  of  orchestra,  of  decorations,  and  of  basso  pro- 
fundo,  was  injurious  to  the  effect,  but  in  return,  the  playing, 
not  being  impeded  by  these  accessories,  gains  singularly  m 
vivacity.  'Lucrezia,'  'I  Puritani,'  and  'Trovatore'  can  all 
be  played  the  same  evening!  the  whole  in  two  hours  and  a 
half,  and  for  fifty  cents! 

At  Bellevue  (Canada)  the  '  Grand  Italian  Opera  Com- 
pany' gave  '  Lucrezia.'  In  the  supper  scene,  when  Mad. 
Testa  comes  to  the  passage  of  '  Vaso  d'oro,'  she  says  tWt 
the  gold  and  silver  vase  of  the  Borgia  amounted  to  a  blue 
china  pitcher  of  water  and  two  tumblers.  The  Canadian 
audience,  who  did  not  understand  a  bit  of  Italian,  nor  of 
the  opera,  put  up  with  the  glass  for  the '  Vaso  d'oro  (cup  of 
gold),  but  Mad.  Testa,  on  seeing  the  Brindisi  sung  with 
this  singular  cup  was  taken  with  a  fit  of  laughter  which 
was  caught  by  Orsenigo  Gennaro.  The  audience,  thinking 
that  the  laughter  was  a  part  of  the  opera,  thought  the  scene 
marvellously  played,  and  laughed  till  they  cried,  and  the 
opera  of '  Lucrezia'  ended  amid  the  applause  of  the  hall. 

In  another  place  Leonora  ('  Trovatore')  was  forewarned 
that  she  must  not  die ;  and  wherefore  ?  "  Because  you  will 
be  obliged  after  falling  dead  to  get  up  and  go  out  before 
the  audience,  since  there  is  no  curtain." 


308  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

At  Quebec,  an  English  corporal,  endowed  with  a  superb 
tenor  voice,  he  said,  offered  to  sing  the  chorus  in  the  'Mis- 
erere' of  'Trovatore,'  behind  the  scenes.  The  Conite  di 
Luna  and  Azucena  accepted  his  assistance  with  so  much 
the  more  eagerness,  as  it  was  upon  them  that  the  task  of 
singing  this  lamentable  accompaniment  devolved.  (The 
clock  of  the  altar  struck  the  hour )  The  corporal  com- 
menced to  his  great  satisfaction,  and  to  the  consternation 
of  the  orchestra  (Behrens),  and  of  the  choristers  (the  Comte 
di  Luna  and  Azucena),  the  worthy  man  having  imperturb- 
ably  struck  a  tone  higher  than  they.  His  success  was 
unanimous.  The  esprit  de  corps  was  comiected  with  it. 
His  equals,  the  corporals  of  the  regiment,  and  all  their  sub- 
ordinates, the  soldiers,  were  there  on  purpose  to^  applaud 
him.  Intoxicated  by  his  success  he  followed  next  day  the 
Grand  Company  who  were  going  to  give  'Trovatore'  at 
Montreal.  He  offered  himself  for  the  '  Miserere'  with  some 
other  soldiers,  who  had  practised  together  and  took  charge 
of  the  chorus.  The  Comte  di  Luna  and  Azucena  accepted 
them  eagerly,  but  at  the  critical  moment  they  escaped  into 
their  room,  washing  their  hands  of  what  was  about  to  take 
place.  The  orchestra  (Behrens)  assures  me  that  the  effect 
was  impossible  to  describe.  Poor  Behrens!  he  seems  to 
regret  the  time  when  he  was  the  merry  companion  of  my 
company.  This  is  perhaps  the  result  of  the  affection  which 
he  has  for  me,  but  I  think  it  must  be  also  added  that,  his 
companions  not  speaking  either  English  or  German,  Beh- 
rens can  no  more  perpetrate  puns. 

Noyexnber  29. 

Concert  at  Providence,  poor  enough.  Providence  is  de- 
cidedly going  behindhand. 

November  30. 

Concert  at  Boston.  Yery  great  success.  Morelli  sings 
remarkably  well.  He  belongs,  although  young,  to  the  old 
school  of  singing,  that  is  to  say,  he  appears  to  be  ignorant 
of  the  axiom  of  the  Verdistas  that  you  must  scream  to  be 
a  consummate  vocalist. 

December  1. 

Hartford.  Fine  concert.  Kind  audience.  Faces  to  make 
one  play  false  notes  in  the  front  row.  I  got  along,  neverthe- 
less, passably. 


BOSTON,  INTELLIGENT,  LITERARY,  POLISHED.    309 

December  2. 

Concert  at  Boston.    Great  success, 

December  3. 

Matinee  in  the '  Music  Hall'  with  the  grand  organ.    L 

plays  remarkably. 

December  4. 

Adieu  Boston !  you  are  stiff,  pedantic,  exclusive  (Mr.  D. 
is  its  oracle)!  Your  enemies  say  that  you  are  cold  and 
morose.  For  myself,  I  say  that  you  are  intelligent,  literary, 
polished ;  that  your  pedantry,  if  you  have  any,  would  be 
excusable,  if  it  had  produced  only  thfe  grand  organ  of  the 
Music  Hall,  that  glorious  monument. 

I  should  have  much  liked  to  know  Longfellow  person- 
ally; but  his  habitual  melancholy,  and  the  burden  of  his 
afflictions  keep  him  at  a  distance  from  the  world.  He  called 
on  me  at  my  hotel,  but  I  was  absent,  and  my  regrets  are  so 
much  the  more  bitter  and  profound,  as  it  is  probably  the 
only  occasion  that  I  might  have  had  of  seeing  our  greatest 
poet. 

We  have  no  traditions  in  America.  Archaeology,  the 
worship  of  the  past,  could  not  exist  in  a  society  born  but 
yesterday,  which  has  not  yet  had  time  to  think  of  rest- 
ing in  order  to  dream,  occupied  as  it  still  is  with  pro- 
viding for  its  material  requirements.  We  are  all,  more  or 
less,  like  that  American  who  found  Rome  very  shattered. 
To  look  back  at  the  past  is  the  business  of  a  satiated  and 
idle  man ;  it  is  a  luxury  which  only  old  societies  satiated 
with  civilization,  and  discounting  the  future,  can  indulge 
in.  Our  churches,  our  landscapes,  strike  our  senses,  but  do 
not  appeal  to  our  imagination.  I  have  never  been  pro- 
foundly moved  by  a  very  large  landscape.  My  emotion  is 
dissipated  by  the  multiplicity  of  things.  I  desire  to  bind 
together  the  details,  but  the  string  breaks.  I  remain  cold. 
A  very  small  brook  softly  murmuring  at  the  bottom  of  an 
obscure  and  shady  glade  sets  me  to  dreaming.  All  my 
emotions  are  awakened  by  it. 

I  have  been  to  Ticknor  &  Fields — ^the  veteran  publishers 
of  America.  It  is  delicious  in  our  epoch  of  palatial  stores 
to  find  again  one  of  those  old  shops,  dusty,  sombre,  con- 
cealing under  their  antiquity  that  poetic  perfume  which 


310  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

always  is  associated  with  the  past.  Here  Hawthorne's  first 
essays  were  published.  Longfellow  here  submitted  to  them 
his  first  verses.  Whittier,  the  melodious  Quaker,  did  the 
same.  Invited  by  Fields  to  spend  the  evenmg  with  him, 
I  met  there  the  intelligent  aristocracy  of  Boston.  Hunt, 
the  picturesque  genre  painter.  Holmes,  the  amusing  and 
inspired  author  of  the  'Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table,' 
and  many  others.  The  generous  hospitality  which  Mrs. 
Fields  ofters  to  her  guests  is  worthy  of  the  reputation  which 
she  bears,  and  answers  to  the  idea  which  one  forms  volun- 
tarily of  the  culture  and  urbanity  of  the  society  of  the 
modem  Athens.  I  saw  in  her  parlour  a  portrait  of  Long- 
fellow and  his  wife,  two  admirable  heads.  The  latter  was 
well  calculated  to  inspire  the  melodious  verse  of  'Hyperion.' 
The  head  of  Lonsjfellow  answers  the  ideal  which  we  form 
of  a  great  poet,  "irothing  can  be  more  noble  than  the  con- 
tour of  his  face,  more  harmonious  than  the  calm  which  it 
breathes,  half  veiled  in  the  depths  of  the  immense  worlds 
in  which  he  has  plunged. 

Opposite  to  Longfellow  was  a  portrait,  which  from  a 
distance  I  took  for  that  of  some  Italian  of  the  Renaissance. 
I  approached  it  and  read  at  the  bottom  the  lithographed 
verses  of  the  '  Bugle  Call'  signed  in  a  nervous  but  legible 
hand  'Tennyson.'  The  head,  not  so  handsome,  not  so 
striking,  as  that  of  Longfellow's,  is  superb.  The  swollen 
and  half-closed  eyelid  (his  enemies  say  the  effect  of  opium) 
conceals  an  eagle's  eye,  which  worthily  crowns  a  heroic  nose. 

Mr.  Fields,  whose  collection  of  autographs  is  very  rich, 
showed  me  an  entire  chapter  of  Dickens's  manuscript.  It 
resembles  fruitless  efforts  at  sky,  smoke,  and  foliage,  done 
by  some  artless  draughtsman;  after  an  attentive  examina- 
tion I  discovered  that  the  spirals  which  looked  like  smoke 
amid  the  rings  which  I  had  taken  for  clouds  were  the 
author's  method  of  erasure.  As  to  the  foliage  it  was 
Dickens's  manner  of  writing.  I  must  acknowledge  that 
there  was  much  more  of  smoke  and  clouds  in  it  than  of 
foliage,  which  proves  to  the  admirers  of  the  flowing  and 
charming  style  of  Dickens  that  it  is  not  without  polishing, 
filing,  soldering,  and  hammering,  sweat  and  trouble,  that 
perfection  and  simplicity  are  arrived  at,  and  that  in  litera* 


0  MJECENAC  NEW  YORKERS!  811 

ture  as  in  mineraloffj^  the  diamond  does  not  sparkle  until 
after  it  has  been  polished. 

Boston  possesses  what  New  York  has  not  vet  obtained, 
two  concert  halls,  which  are  in  no  wise  inferior  to  any  of 
the  largest  concert  halls  in  the  world,  and  which,  as  to 
acoustics,  I  consider  superior  to  the  best  of  this  continent 
and  of  the  old  world  (Tremont  Hall  and  Music  Hall). 
Besides  I  love  pedantry  and  vanity  when  they  engender 
such  results  as  the  great  organ  and  the  bronze  statue  of 
Beethoven  in  the  library.  0  Msecenac  New  Yorkers,  who 
boast  of  the  golden  patronage  you  accord  to  art,  what  are 
your  titles?  Is  it  perchance  that  usurious  enterprise  which 
is  called  the  'Academy  of  Music,'  by  which  you  will  draw 
from  the  impressario  a  double  tax  under  the  form  of  exorbi- 
tant rent  and  gratuitous  admission?  You  kill  the  opera  at 
New  York,  you  place  the  impressario  in  face  of  this 
dilemma,  to  be  honest,  that  is  to  say,  become  bankrupt, 
or  to  prosper,  that  is  to  say,  rob  his  creditors.  In  view  of 
the  ultimatum  we  are  not  astonished  at  the  little  hesita- 
tion with  which  the  greater  part  have  chosen  the  latter 
alternative,  and  we  consider  that  you  are  responsible  for 
the  ruinous  deception  practised  upon  the  poor  artists  who 
have  not  been  paid. 

December  5. 

Concert  at  Harrisburg.     Charming  audience. 

December  6. 

Brilliant  concert  at  Pittsburg.  They  take  here  de- 
cidedly. I  have  never  given  a  concert  here  which  did  not 
pay  me.  I  play^ed  upon  a  square  piano,  my  grand  not 
having  arrived  m  time.  On  commencing  I  cast  a  look  of 
pity  on  it.  "Poor  little  thing,  thou  dost  not  know  w^hat 
awaits  thee."  But  the  valiant  little  piano  did  not  flinch, 
and  sustained  the  assault  w^ithout  losing  a  string  or  a 
hammer. 


312  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

We  travelled  from  Harrisburg  to  Pittsburg  by  night; 
not  a  sleeping-car,  the  worst  weather  in  the  world,  cold 
and  rainy,  and  fourteen  hours  among  soldiers,  smoking, 
singing,  swearing,  and  doinff  all  night,  for  their  own  plea- 
sure, everything  that  could  oe  most  disagreeable  to  others. 

Our  civilization  has  some  singular  deficiencies.  The 
comforts  which  we  possess  in  the  interior  of  our  houses  and 
in  our  hotels  disappear  as  soon  as  we  travel.  Might  we 
not  have  many  seats  so  arranged  that  by  paying  a  little 
more  a  lady  and  gentleman  might  be  certain  of  finding 
during  their  journey  the  security  and  repose  which  the 
laws  of  our  country  give  us  a  right  to  demand?  Is  it 
proper  that  your  daughter,  your  sister,  should  be  exposed 
without  intermission  to  the  gross  and  profane  language 
and  to  the  obscene  songs  of  a  mixed  society  which  the  want 
of  a  division  of  seats  forces  you  to  submit  to?  You  will 
tell  me  that  our  republican  institutions  are  opposed  to  these 
divisions.  I  do  not  think  so.  You  would  have  as  much 
right  to  force  all  citizens  to  have  their  hands  callous  and  not 
to  wear  gloves.  Besides,  have  you  not  first  and  second 
class  hotels?  Have  you  not  at  theatres  places  suited  to 
all  purses?  One  can  be  a  republican  and  not  like  the 
society  of  those  who  drink  every  five  minutes,  pick  their 
teeth  with  their  penknife,  use  their  fingers  for  handker- 
chiefs and  eat  sausage  and  keep  you  in  remembrance  of  it 
through  its  odour  a  long  time  after  the  sausage  has  dis- 
appeared. Do  not  make  a  mistake  as  to  what  I  think. 
I  am  far  from  claiming  an  aristocratic  privilege  in  favour 
of  the  rich  (of  all  aristocracies  this  is  the  most  absurd  and 
the  least  logical),  but  I  demand  in  the  name  of  civilization 
an  end  of  some  kind  to  the  abuse  which  turbulent  and 
gross  majorities  exercise  toward  intelligent  and  polished 
minorities,  whether  it  be  in  railroad  cars  or  in  the  field 
of  politics.     I  do  not  intend  to  say,  because  a  man  can 


ABUSES  OF  TURBULENT  MAJORITIES.  313 

pay  more  for  a  seat  he  must  consequently  behave  in  it 
more  decently  than  a  poor  man  (far  from  that,  for  the 
contrary  theory,  alas  I  might  be  proved  victoriously),  but 
undoubtedly  wealth,  particularly  in  a  new  society,  being 
generally  the  proof  of  social  position,  we  shall  be  less  ex- 
posed and  more  rarefy  find  neighbours  who  would  tread 
upon  our  toes,  spit  over  us,  smoke  under  our  nose,  swear, 
and  take  a  singular  pleasure  in  disturbing  us  when  we 
wish  to  sleep,  under  the  protest  that  we  live  in  a  republic 
and  that  consequently  every  one  has  a  right  to  do  what 
he  pleases,  and  that  one  man  is  as  good  aa  another ;  he 
who  does  not  wear  gloves  having  the  right  to  make  another 
who  does  understand  that  he  is  at  least  his  equal  if  he  is 
not  his  superior.  All  this  is  absurd  and  unworthy  of  us. 
In  fifty  years  this  will  have  disappeared,  and  our  children 
will  pity  us  for  having  so  long  tolerated  such  ah  abuse. 

Again,  another  thing.  In  order,  undoubtedly,  that 
ladies  may  be  able  to  avoid  bad  company,  there  are  rail- 
road cars,  called  '  ladies'  cars,'  to  which  men  by  themselves 
are  not  admitted.  You  may  imagine  the  logic  which  has 
presided  over  this  marvellous  invention  when  you  see  a 
greasy  immigrant  and  his  'wife,'  or  your  coachman 
and  his  wife,  or  your  cook,  who  have  the  right  to 
pass  the  gates  of  paradise,  which  are  forbidden  to  you, 
if,  perchance,  you  belong  to  the  disinherited  cates^ory  of 
bachelors.  Then,  again,  the  insolence  of  the  subaltern 
employes !  Trollope  has  perfectly  seized  this  national 
trait.  Are  you  well  dressed,  the  man  in  tatters,  whom 
circumstances  accidentally  give  a  superiority  over  you, 
embraces  it  with  avidity ;  he  reclaims  his  dignity,  which 
he  thinks  compromised  in  the  presence  of  your  gentlemanly 
appearance,  and  crushes  you  with  all  his  plebeian  insolence. 

A  conductor  in  the  West  will  never  say,  in  speaking  of 
you,  '  this  gentleman,'  but  '  this  man,'  particularly  i^  by 
your  dress  and  polite  manners,  he  recognizes  in  you  your 
superiority  over  him. 

We  accuse  travellers  who  do  not  speak  of  us  advan- 
tageously of  exaggeration  and  taking  sides,  and  we  hate 
them  so  much  the  more  as  we  ourselves  well  know  that 
they  have  spoken  the  truth ;  and  we  pardon  with  difficulty 
those  who  discover  our  weaknesses  and  our  oddities, 
27 


314  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

"Would  it  not  be  more  reasonable  for  us  to  correct  our- 
selves ? 

Pittsburg  is  the  Birmingham  of  the  United  States.  The 
petroleum  wells  have  given  an  extraordinary  impulsion 
to  its  already  so  great  prosperity.  It  possesses  to-day  forty 
or  fifty  large  steam  factories;  two  hundred  steam  oil 
refineries;  many  cannon  founderies,  one  of  which,  the  most 
considerable,  has  cast  the  large  cannons  weighing  thousands 
of  pounds  each,  and  twenty-eight  feet  long.  The  specula- 
tions in  oil  are  unheard  of.  A  young  Englishman  of 
my  acquaintance  placed  his  capital,  one  thousand  dollars, 
which  he  had  with  difficulty  amassed  in  a  small  trade,  in 
a  petroleum  company.  In  fifteen  months  his  one  thou- 
sand dollars  had  gained  him  seventy-five  thousand !  I  A 
German  tailor,  whom  I  know,  bought,  three  years  affo,  a 
piece  of  ground  in  Pennsylvania  which  cost  him  five  thou- 
sand dollars.  The  nature  of  the  soil  gave  promise  of  oil 
wells.  He  divided  his  ground  into  sixteen  lots,  and  formed 
a  company  for  exploring  it.  They  dug — the  oil  flew  out. 
He  sold  twelve-sixteenths  at  the  rate  of  thirty  thousand 
dollars  each,  that  is  to  say,  for  three  hundred  and  sixty 
thousand  dollars,  and  at  the  last  date  the  four-sixteenths 
which  he  had  reserved  was  producing  him  seven  hundred 
dollars  per  day ! 

Wednesday,  December  7. 

Second  concert  at  Pittsburg.  An  immense  crowd.  All 
my  pieces  encored.  Spent  the  remainder  of  the  evening  at 
H.  with  Mr.  M.,  music  publisher,  and  two  charming  French 
gentlemen,  G.  and  T.,  professors  of  singing. 

Set  out  again  from  Pittsburg  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing. Night  cold  and  endless.  Not  a  sleeping-car!  Could 
any  one  in  the  East  imagine  a  railway  company  without  a 
sleeping-car ! 

Thursday,  December  8. 

Arrived  at  half-past  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  at  Cleve- 
land. It  is  bitter  cold.  The  North  wind  blows ;  the  lake 
rolls  its  great  brown  waves.  The  sky  is  wan.  Some 
assert  that  Cleveland  is  charming.  I  have  always  found 
it  extremely  dull.  Besides,  the  hotels  there  are  so  bad  that 
you  have  to  feed  on  bread  and  eggs  rather  than  perish  with 


CLEVELAND  AND  BAD  HOTELS.  815 

hunger.  I  am  assured  that  the  old  hotel  has  been  replaced 
on  tne  same  site  by  a  new  one  in  the  same  style  as  those  at 
the  East. 

Decidedly,  the  die  is  cast.  Cleveland  is  devoted  to  bad 
hotels,  the  bill  of  fare  ostentatiously  containing  an  inter- 
minable list  of  dishes,  not  one  of  which  is  eatable.  The 
fish  are  too  stale,  the  soup  greasy  water,  the  butter  rancid, 
the  turkey  too  tough ;  the  ox  has  had  to  work  too  long 
before  he  came  to  give  battle  to  our  jaws.  I  am  helped 
to  a  preserve  of  such  detestable  taste  that  I  give  up  eatmg. 
The  tea  tastes  of  chamomile  and  hay.  Everything  is  so 
dirty — so  badly  prepared!  I  hurry  to  eet  to  Chicago; 
it  is  really  the  only  city  in  the  West  that  has  attained  the 
material  civilization  of  New  York.  No  one  can  form  an 
idea  of  the  importance  which  a  good  hotel  has  for  us.  We 
arrive  benumbed  with  cold,  fatigued  by  a  long  ride,  and 
hungry.  Let  any  one  think  of  the  disappointment,  may  I 
not  say  despair,  in  not  finding  fire,  repose,  or  good  beds. 

The  concert  this  evening  will  be  full.  All  the  places  are 
already  taken  this  morning. 

Splendid  concert ;  we  have  given  a  double  programme — 
every  piece  having  been  encored.  My  'Cradle  Song,'  which 
I  played  to  satisfy  a  private  request  that  reached  me  under 
the  form  of  a  note,  apj)ears  to  have  given  satisfaction.  I 
took  notice  that  silence  continued  the  whole  time,  no  con- 
versation annoyed  me  while  I  played,  and  the  attention  of 
the  audience  was  not  distracted  for  a  single  moment. 

I  am  daily  astonished  at  the  rapidity  with  which  the 
taste  for  music  is  developed  and  is  developing  in  the  United 
States.  At  the  time  of  my  first  return  from  Europe  I  was 
constantly  deploring  the  want  of  public  interest  for  pieces 
purely  sentimental ;  the  public  listened  with  indifference ; 
to  interest  it,  it  became  necessary  to  strike  it  with  astonish- 
ment ;  grand  movements,  tours  de  force^  and  noise  had  alone 
the  privilege  in  piano  music,  not  of  pleasing,  but  of  mak- 
ing it  patient  with  it.  I  was  the  first  American  pianist, 
not  by  my  artistic  worth,  but  in  chronological  order.  Be- 
fore me,  there  were  no  piano  concerts  except  in  peculiar 
eases,  that  is  to  say,  when  a  very  great  name  arriving  from 
Europe,  placed  itself  hj  its  celebrity  before  the  public, 
which,  willing  or  unwillmg,  through  curiosity,  and  fashion 


316  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

rather  than  from  taste,  made  it  a  duty  to  go  and  see  the 
lion.  Now,  piano  concerts  are  chronic,  they  have  even 
become  epidemic :  like  all  good  things  they  are  abused. 
From  whatever  cause  the  American  taste  is  becoming  purer, 
and  with  that  remarkable  rapidity  which  we  cite  through 
our  whole  progress.  For  ten  years  a  whole  generation  of 
young, girls  have  played  my  pieces.  'Last  Hope,^  'Marche 
de  ifuit,'  'Murmures  Eoliens,'  'Pastorelle  et  Ckvalier,' 
'Cradle  Song,'  have  become  so  popular  that  it  is  difficult 
for  me  to  find  an  audience  indisposed  to  listen  to  me  with 
interest  since  the  majority  has  played  or  studied  the  pieces 
which  compose  the  programme. 

We  should  all,  however  narrow  may  be  our  sphere  of 
action,  bear  our  part  in  the  progressive  movement  of  civil- 
ization, and  I  cannot  help  feeling  a  pride  in  having  con- 
tributed within  the  modest  limits  of  my  powers  in  extend- 
ing through  our  country  the  knowledge  of  music. 

But  Cleveland  ought  to  have  a  better  hotel.  Besides,  I 
have  a  theory  about  this,  which  is,  that  in  the  same  way 
that  nations  have  the  political  institutions  which  they  de- 
serve, cities  ought  to  have  the  hotels  which  they  deserve. 
If  Cleveland,  like  me,  detested  rancid  butter,  stringy  meat, 
and  greasy  soup,  doubtless  the  hotel  would  become  bankrupt. 
If,  on  the  contrary,  it  prospers,  it  is  because  my  tastes  are 
not  like  those  of  the  majority.  The  hotel  is  right,  it  is  I 
who  am  wrong. 

The  aptitude  of  the  American  for  commerce  of  all  kinds 
is  marvellous.  It  is,  however,  less  the  fertility  of  his  mind 
than  the  sickly  thirst  for  making  money.  To  make  money 
is  the  end  of  all  his  eflfbrts.  This  aptitude  is  very  useful 
in  a  society  which  forms  itself,  and  which  requires  that 
every  one  should  contribute  to  the  common  well-being,  but 
it  destroys  all  individuality.  The  individual  is  absorbed  in 
the  collective  whole.  Benvenuto  Cellini,  if  born  in  the 
United  States,  would  certainly  never  have  thrown  his  vessel 
of  gold  into  the  furnace  to  save  the  great  statue  of  Perree. 
"Lamartine  is  poor,''  I  said  one  day  to  one  of  my  friends. 
"What!"  he  replied,  "I  always  thought  he  was  so  smart." 
The  United  States  is  the  only  country  where  they  give  a 
sort  of  public  recognition  to  a  rich  man.  IS'ot  only  do  they 
admire  him,  they  honour  him ;  still  more,  they  think  that  he 


AMERICAN  APTITUDE  FOR  COMMERCE.  317 

has  rendered  a. service  to  the  community  in  which  he  lives. 
For  a  long  time  I  have  considered  this  as  an  anomaly,  but 
I  have  ended  bv  explaining  it  in  the  following  manner: 
They  think  it  kind  of  him  to  have  fixed  in  the  country  the 
capital  which  augments  its  prosperity.  It  is  always  utility. 
It  is  this  idea  which  inspires  the  newspapers  in  small  towns 
when,  on  the  occasion  of  concerts  given  by  great  artists  on 
their  travels,  they  oppose  these  invasions,  and  recommend 
only  the  patronizing  of  local  concerts,  because  then  the 
money  does  not  leave  the  locality.  It  is  understanding 
civilization  after  the  manner  of  the  Chinese. 

Sandusky,  Friday. 

Concert  quite  good.  Recalled  after  each  piece.  The 
audience  encored  us  all.  Some  officers  who  are  at  the  hotel 
speak  of  the  '  show,'  and  a  man  came  to  the  ticket  office 
for  a  ticket  to  the  panorama! 

Saturday,  December  10. 

Awoke  at  five  o'clock  this  m6ming.  The  snow  is  five 
inches  deep  in  the  street.  The  hotel  omnibus  is  full — ^we 
are  piled  up  in  it.  We  set  out,  but  the  wheels  are  soon  in 
a  rut.  The  horses  pull ;  the  traces  break ;  the  horses  chafe, 
and  leave  the  carriage  in  the  road.  Time  presses ;  we  walk 
as  far  as  the  station  through  the  snow  up  to  our  knees. 

On  the  road.  Opposite  Sandusky,  on  the  lake,  we  are 
approaching  Johnson's  Island,  where  twenty-five  hundred 
Southern  prisoners  are  confined. 

Left  at  six  o'clock,  we  must  stop  at  Clyde,  a  small  village 
three  miles  from  Sandusky,  to  await  the  train  which  goes 
to  Toledo,  where  we  have  to  wait  as^ain  for  two  hours  the 
train  which  arrives  at  Detroit  at  hatf-past  six  o'clock  this 
evening.  In  the  car  I  found  myself  alongside  of  a  Swiss 
who  has  been  living  for  four  years  at  Sandusky.  He  has 
planted  three  acres  of  vines,  and  his  harvest  this  year 
amounts  to  twenty-five  hundred  dollars.  His  wine,  which 
I  have  tasted,  is  a  little  sour  yet,  but,  without  any  doubt, 
will  be  in  a  few  years  as  good  as  any  in  Ohio. 

We  reach  Clyde.  It  is  a  hamlet  which  is  composed  of 
warehouses  for  the  railroad,  of  a  hotel,  and  of  twenty  dwell- 
ing-houses.    The  parlour  of  the  hotel  is  very  comfortable. 

27* 


318  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

We  find  in  it  a  handsome  stove,  a  sofa,  tabies,  and  a  por- 
trait of  Grant.  Grant,  I  believe,  was  bom  at  Sandusky, 
and  very  naturally  is  the  pride  of  the  State. 

After  breakfast  we  assembled  in  the  lower  hall  of  the 
tavern  around  an  immense  east-iron  stove  which  reddens 
and  sin^  gaily  to  the  flame  of  the  tree  trunks  which  are 
thrown  into  it  every  quarter  of  an  hour. 

I  have  been  talking  to  an  old  man  who  has  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  poor  farmer.  We  are  talking — poetry ! 
The  United  States  presents  to  strangers  this  remarkable 
condition  of  things,  that  it  is  impossible  for  them  to  con- 
jecture from  appearances  the  rank  or  position  of  those  whom 
they  meet  with  on  their  travels.  If  they  meet  with  some 
who  sparkle  with  diamonds  and  blow  their  nose  with  their 
fingers  they  will  meet  again  with  superior  and  cultivated 
minds  concealed  under  the  fur  skin  greatcoat  of  the  pio- 
neer of  the  '  Far  West.'  My  companion  is  well  versed  in 
the  literature  of  the  Bible.  He  loves  poetry  and  evidently 
understands  it.  He  speaks  to  me  with  enthusiasm  of  the 
poetry  of  David.  M.  de  Lamartine,  who  has  analyzed  with 
the  whole  force  of  his  style  the  splendour  of  the  Psalms, 
would  have  been  delighted  in  listening  to  my  old  com- 
panion. 

The  weather  is  superb.  The  dazzling  snow  scintillates 
under  the  rays  of  a  bright  sun.  The  train  has  arrived — 
we  set  out  for  Toledo ;  i  manage  with  great  trouble  to  find 
a  seat.  There  are  more  than  eight  hundred  passengers. 
The  general  aspect  and  physiognomy  of  the  people  one 
meets  with  in  the  West  ofier  a  striking  contrast  to  those  of 
the  East.  Nearly  everybody  here  lets  his  beard  ^row. 
Their  clothes  are  coarse  without  being  poor.  Every- 
thing announces  a  great  contempt  for  fashion,  and  neatness 
(which  is  one  of  the  peculiar  traits  of  the  Yankee)  has  not 
much  to  do  with  their  dress. 

Sunday,  December  11. 

Arrived  at  Chicago  from  Detroit  after  nineteen  hours  of 
railroad.  The  snow  is  so  thick  that  in  many  places  it  is 
drifted  to  a  height  of  three  or  four  feet,  and  has  obstructed 
the  road. 

Chicago  is  always  the  city  of  the  West.    We  are  to  inau- 


RICHEST  FARMER  IN  ILLINOIS.  819 

e:urate  Moore  &  Smith's  new  hall.    The  tickets  are  all  sold 
in  advance.     Exeellent  hotel,  "  Tremont  House.' 

Monday,  December  12. 

Concert,  hall  crammed  but  the  audience  cold.  I  have 
noticed  that  an  audience  which  inaugurates  a  hall  is  gene- 
rally cold.  Thus  also  I  have  never  found  any  enthusiasm 
where  there  was  in  advance  *  high  expectations.' 

Tuesday,  December  13. 

Second  concert.  Audience  very  large  and  very  brilliant. 
A  great  deal  of  enthusiasm.  I  saw  there  the  richest  farmey 
in  Illinois.  He  owns  seventy-three  thousand  acres  of  arable 
ground;  in  one  of  his  farms  alone  there  are  twenty-one 
thousand  acres.  He  sold  lately  in  one  lot  twenty  thou- 
sand head  of  cattle.  They  talk  of  making  a  gigantic  canal 
from  the  Atlantic  coast,  connecting  the  great  central  lakes, 
and  ending  at  Chicago,  which  will  thus  enable  European 
vessels  to  land  directly  at  Chicago,  eleven  hundred  miles 
in  the  interior  of  the  country.  Fifteen  hundred  houses  are 
at  this  moment  being  built.  The  new  Academy  of  Music, 
which  a  very  young  man  by  the  name  of  Crosby  is  building 
at  his  own  expense  (his  colossal  fortune  of  two  million  dollars 
having  been  made  in  two  years  from  speculations  in  whis- 
key), will  be  inaugurated  on  the  seventeenth  of  next  May 
by  the  Italian  Opera  Company  which  is  at  this  moment  in 
Isew  York.  The  new  hall  will  hold  comfortably  three 
thousand  persons,  and  rivals  in  richness  of  ornamentation 
that  of  Kew  York.  The  inhabitants  of  Chicago  pretend 
that  they  will  establish  a  permanent  Italian  Opera  Com- 
pany in  the  West.     Notice  to  artists  without  engagements ! 

Nothing  can  give  you  any  idea  of  the  feverish  enterprise 
which  exists  here ;  everything  is  done  in  grand  style.  The 
stores  are  palaces,  the  hotels  towns. 

A  newspaper  attacks  me  because  I  play  exclusively  on 
Chickering's  pianos,  and  thinks  it  shocking  that  I  place  the 
maker's  name  on  a  plate  that  decorates  the  side  exposed  to 

fublic  view.    He  adds  facetiously  that  it  is  asserted  that 
intend  to  wear,  suspended  to  my  neck,  a  placard,  upon 
which  will  be  inscribed  the  name  of  my  favourite  maker. 


320  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

This  honest  editor,  who  does  not  appear  to  be  aufait  in 
the  matter  of  concerts,  ought  to  know  that  no  piano,  here 
or  in  Europe,  is  placed  upon  the  platform  without  having 
on  it  the  name  of  its  maker.  Then  he  also  should  know 
that  Thalberg,  for  the  twenty-j&ve  years  that  he  has  given 
concerts  in  Europe,  has  never  played  but  upon  Erard's 
pianos.  That  Chopin  has  never  laid  his  fingers  upon  any 
others  than  those  of  Pleyel.  That  Liszt,  in  France,  in  Swit- 
zerland, in  England,  in  Italy,  in  Germany,  in  Turkey,  has 
always  played  Erard's  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other  pianos. 
The  reason  for  it  is,  not  what  this  honest  editor  thinks  it 
to  be,  a  commercial  transaction  between  the  maker  and  the 
artist  (no  pecuniary  compensation  could  induce  an  artist  to 
sacrifice  his  reputation  by  playing  on  an  instrument  which 
he  does  not  like),  but  simply  because  the  nature  of  the  dif- 
ferent talents  of  those  of  whom  I  have  above  spoken  is  bet- 
ter adapted  to  that,  of  the  different  pianos  which  they 
exclusively  use. 

Erard's,  whose  tone  is  robust,  strong,  heroic,  slightly 
metallic,  is  adapted  exclusively  to  the  powerful  action  of 
Liszt.  Pleyel's,  less  sonorous  but  poetical  and,  so  to  speak, 
languishing  and  feminine,  corresponds  to  the  elegiac 
style  and  frail  organization  of  Chopin.  There  are  very 
many  excellent  makers  in  America,  and  my  opinion  is  that 
ours  are  equal  to  the  best  pianos  of  Europe.  I  play 
Chickering's,  not  because  all  others  are  bad,  but  because  i 
like  their  tone,  fine  and  delicate,  tender  and  poetic,  because  I 
can  obtain,  in  the  modifications  of  their  sound,  tints  more 
varied  than  those  of  other  instruments.  The  sound  is  in 
the  execution  of  the  pianist  what  colours  are  in  painting. 
"We  often  see  fine  pictures  admirably  drawn  which  never- 
theless appear  cold  to  us.  They  are  wanting  in  colour. 
Many  pianists,  whose  thundering  execution  astonishes  us, 
nevertheless  do  not  move  us;  they  are  ignorant  of  sound. 
Drawing  and  execution  are  acquired  by  labour.  Colour 
and  sound  are  bom  in  us,  and  are  the  outward  expressions 
of  our  sensibility  and  of  our  soul. 

Sanduskt. 

Excellent  little  hot^l.    The  bill  of  fare  is  less  ambitious 
than  that  of  Cleveland,  but  more  real,  and  we  dine  very 


CHARACTER  OF  PIANOS.  821 

comfortably.  The  name  of  the  fieh  attracts  the  attention 
of  Morelli,  who,  poorly  understanding  English,  is  astonished 
at  the  length  of  the  name  on  the  bill  of  fare.  He  passes 
it  to  us  and  we  see  on  it,  "Fish  could  not  be  had  m  the 
.  market  to-day."  Nevertheless  Morelli  asks  for  it  many 
times  without  obtaining  it,  and  complains  that  they  place 
on  the  bill  of  fare  what  they  cannot  give,  "why  do 
they  announce  this  fish  whose  name  is  so  long?" 

At  Detroit — population,  French  Canadian.  The  accent 
of  these  Bas  Bretons  of  America  is  frightful.  I  met  here 
a  Frenchman  who,  after  having  for  a  long  time  sustained 
a  lawsuit  against  the  Government  of  the  United  States 
concerning  a  grant  of  land  made  by  Louis  XV.  to  one  of 
his  ancestors,  has  just  obtained  a  judgment  which  gives 
to  him,  besides  the  land  in  question,  damages  to  the 
amount  of  fifteen  thousand  dollars. 

The  Canadian  shore  lies  opposite  to  Detroit  from  which 
it  is  only  separated  by  the  river.  It  is  a  dangerous 
neighbourhood  and  obliges  the  citizens  to  keep  up  con- 
stant patrols,' the  rebels  infesting  the  Canadian  frontiers,  and 
threatening  for  many  weeks  to  make  a  descent  here  in 
order  to  bum  the  town. 

Wednesday,  December  13. 

^n  route  for  Peoria  from  Chicago.  In  the  second  class 
car  where  I  have  gone  to  smoke,  I  have  conversed  with  a 
Frenchman  who,  with  his  monkey,  is  returning  from 
Oree^on  and  Idaho.  The  first  is  a  handsome  jovial  fellow 
witfi  black  beard  and  resolute  mien.  He  was  for  ten 
years  in  Illinois,  where  he  employed  himself  in  improving 
his  farm.  Oregon  and  Idaho  with  their  inexhaustible 
golden  riches  tempted  him.  He  went  there  four  years 
ago.  He  related  to  me  his  adventures  among  the  mines ; 
they  are  very  curious. 

Idaho  is  a  vast  gold-mine ;  the  precious  metal  is  as  plenty 
as  pebble  stones,  but  there  is  no  water ^  and  nearly  all  the 
adventurers  who  were  able  to  get  there  are  dead.  My 
Frenchman,  who  had  for  many  months  held  on  with  four 
other  companions,  abandoned  the  territory.  They  had 
three  wagons  and  for  three  months  travelled  through  the 
desert  fighting  every  night  with  the  Indians  who  harassed 


J  I 


322  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

them  incessantly,  ^o  rain  had  fallen  for  two  years,  and  our 
adventurers  had  to  put  up  with  drinking  whiskey.  They 
were  constantly  meeting  with  the  bones  or  carcasses  of 
other  emigrants  less  fortunate  than  themselves,  who  had 
died  from  thirst  or  been  massacred  by  the  Indians.  At 
night  they  intrenched  themselves  behind  their  wagons, 
which  they  arranged  in  the  form  of  a  triangle,  and  from  be- 
hind which  they  repulsed  these  nocturnal  attacks.  Arrived 
at  San  Francisco  my  Frenchman  embarked  on  board  a  vessel, 
on  which  there  were  already  four  hundred  miners  return- 
ing from  the  Eldorado  with  fewer  illusions  and  perhaps 
fewer  dollars  than  when  they  set  out  for  it. 

The  poor  little  monkey  is  shivering  with  cold  and 
squats  sadly  in  a  corner.  Morelli  has  taken  it  into  his 
arms,  and  the  poor  little  being  has  put  its  arms  around  his 
neck  and  like  a  sick  child  is  sleeping.  The  monkey  is  a 
very  pretty  little  animal,  less  ugly  than  many  negroes 
whom  I  know  (and  whites  also),  and  its  intelligence  much 
surpasses  that  of  many  bi-mana  without  tails  that  I  am 
acquainted  with, 

Thursday,  December  14. 

Concert  this  evening  at  Peoria.  A  very  ugly  place. 
The  houses  are  mean  and  for  the  most  part  one-story. 
The  streets  are  badly  laid  out.  The  concert  hall  offers 
one  peculiarity ;  the  platform,  which  is  like  a  theatre,  is  so 
high  that  it  gives  me  the  vertigo  to  look  down  upon  the 
audience;  we  all  fear  to  approach  the  edge  lest  we  should 
be  drawn  into  the  abyss.  It  slopes  so  much  that  it  gives 
one  a  sensation  analogous  to  that  of  an  inexperienced  person 
upon  a  roof. 

Audience  numerous  and  enthusiastic.  Hotel  passable. 
Snow  has  fallen  during  the  night.  The  river  is  frozen  and 
is  covered  with  hundreds  of  skaters,  but  few  pretty  women. 
Their  costumes  are  indescribable.  I  forgot  to  say  that  at 
the  hotel  the  waiters  are  girls.     Besieged  fortresses ! 

I  have  read  in  a  newspaper  that  the  emigration  to  the 
West  is  so  great  that  it  is  estimated  that  two  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  emigrants  have  within  the  last  six  years 
gone  to  the    Rocky  Mountains    and   the  Pacific  coast. 


BURNETT  HOUSE,  CINCINNATI.  323 

Nevertheless  this  region  is  so  vast  that  this  access  of  popu- 
lation has  not  even  been  felt. 

The  greater  part  of  these  emigrants  have  established 
themselves  in  the  auriferous  territories  of  Colorado,  Nevada, 
Utah,  Idaho,  and  Montana.  Oregon,  Washington,  New 
Mexico,  and  Arizona  have  comparatively  few  emigrants, 
and  Nebraska,  Kansas,  and  Dakota  have  probably  lost  the 
few  which  they  had,  gold  having  more  attraction  than  the 
richness  of  the  soil. 

December  20. 

At  Cincinnati.  The '  Burnett  House'  is  an  immense  cara- 
vansary, very  dirty  and  very  dear,  where  what  you  eat  is 
in  the  inverse  ratio  of  what  you  pay,  that  is  to  say,  is  very 
little.  It  is  at  the  eating  hours  at  the  Burnett  House  that 
one  can  best  form  an  idea  of  the  physiognomy  of  the 
Western  people.  What  is  most  striKing  is  the  free  and 
easy  behaviour  of  the  men  and  women.  The  first  wear 
flat  felt  hats,  covering  badly  cultivated  heads.  Their 
laughter  particularly  has  something  wild  in  it;  it  is  a 
shrill  sound,  which  recalls  the  neighing  of  a  horse  rather 
than  the  jocosity  of  a  polished  man. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


I  WAS  playing  at  the  concert  the  Kreutzer  sonata  of 
Beethoven.  The  audience  had  greatly  the  appearance  of 
going  to  sleep.  The  next  morning  a  newspaper  says: 
"We  could  ourselves  have  done  very  well  without  the 
long  piece  for  the  piano  and  violin."  It  was  notwith- 
standing the  same  paper  that  last  year  was  complaining 
that  we  did  not  give  classical  music. 

Play  at  Mozart  Hall.  It  is  a  very  large  theatre;  re- 
markable for  your  being  obliged  to  go  up  three  stories  to 
get  to  it.  While  I  was  playing  I  recalled  to  mind  the 
experience  of  the  Swedish  doctor,  I  think  it  was,  who  pre- 


824  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

tended  to  suspend  life,  gradually  lessening  the  temperature 
of  the  atmosphere  in  which  he  placed  his  subject  until  it 
froze  like  a  sorbet,  and  which  he  thus  preserved  in  an  ice- 
house ad  hoc  to  make  it  revive  some  years  after.  I  became 
frightened  on  feeling  the  cold  waves  of  icy  air  which  freely 
circulated  around  the  hyperborean  scene  of  Mozart  Hall, 
which  gradually  abated  the  circulation  of  my  blood;  I 
began  to  fear  that  I  might  paas  into  the  condition  of  a 
frozen  mummy.  I  only  know  of  two  places  in  which  I 
have  suffered  as  much  cold:  'Mont  Blanc'  and  the 
'Young  Men's  Association'  at  Detroit,  which  I  have 
always  suspected  of  being  an  ice  depot. 

St.  Louis. 

Arrived,  December  22,  after  twenty-two  hours'  journey. 
I  do  not  remember  ever  having  travelled  on  this  road 
without  meeting  with  eight  to  ten  hours'  detention.  At 
Richmond,  a  village  in  Indiana,  we  waited  for  four  hours, 
as  the  road  was  blocked,  a  train  having  got  off"  the  rails. 
The  plausible  reason  was  that  three  poor  cows  got  on  the 
road,  which  paid  for  their  imprudence  with  their  lives, 
and  whose  corpses  are  still  in  the  snow ;  but  for  those  who 
see  the  broken  '  rails'  and  the  bad  condition  of  the  road,  it 
is  impossible  not  to  admit  that  to  travel  here  is  a  perilous 
and  rash  enterprise. 

Arrived  at  six  o'clock  on  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi 
opposite  to  St.  Louis.  The  cold  is  intense.  The  station, 
instead  of  being  opposite  the  wharf  where  the  boat  lands, 
is  a  quarter  of  a  mile  oft',  which  we  must  walk  on  foot  in 
a  north  wind  which  cuts  our  faces.  Arrived  at  the  steam- 
boat, whose  saloon  (?)  is  already  filled  with  soldiers,  work- 
men, dirty  women,  and  dirty  children  packed  together. 
Crowded,  suffocated,  we  manage  to  force  ourselves  into  the 
midst  of  this  crowd,  but  the  atmosphere  is  soon  so  charged 
with  the  exhalations  of  those  crammed  into  so  small  a  space 
that  we  prefer  the  risk  of  being  frozen  to  that  of  being 
poisoned.  St.  Louis  is  a  sad-looking  city.  Poor  in  appear- 
ance, the  shops  are  mean,  and  the  street  richest  in  large 
stores  hardly  compares  with  the  poorest  quarters  of  the 
'  Bowery.'     In  the  largest  street,  the  curbs  of  the  pave- 


LIN  DELL  HOUSE,  ST.  LOUIS.  325 

ments  are  broken,  and  we  recognize  the  same  holes  which 
we  had  seen  last  winter. 

The  '  Lindell  House'  is  probably,  as  to  its  exterior,  the 
most  beautiful  building  of  the  kind  to  be  found  in  America. 
Unluckily,  it  recalls  to  me  a  certain  adage  which  I  cannot 
express  better  than  by  saying,  that  I  should  like  it  better 
if  there  were  fewer  columns  in  the  corridors  and  more 
chambers,  less  rose-work  on  the  ceiling,  more  tender  beef- 
steaks, and  the  corridors  kept  heated  at  a  temperature 
which  did  not  recall  the  horrors  of  Captain  Franklin  and 
his  heroic  companions.  At  breakfast,  it  is  our  first  meal 
(for  the  last  two  days  we  have  lived  on  cold  pies  and  apples), 
we  literally  froze.  The  walls  and  ceiling  are  painted  in 
fresco,  but  the  furnaces  throw  out  no  heat. 

The  servant  waits  upon  us  with  a  listless  nonchalance, 
but  he  also  brings  us  the  plates  only  ten  minutes  afterwards. 
In  summer  iced  coftee  and  frozen  beefsteaks  are  perhaps 
acceptable — ^but  in  winter! 

The  result  is,  that  Morrelli  and  I  commenced  a  search 
through  the  streets  for  a  restaurant.  We  discover  a  French- 
man, formerly  from  New  Orleans,  who  gives  us  a  genuine 
beej^teak^  and  not  a  cow&tesikj  and  relates  to  us  all  his  mis- 
haps whilst  waiting  on  us. 

There  is  a  class  of  persons  who  wish  to  learn  what  was 
the  artist's  intention.  The  artist  is  an  instrument  through 
which  God  inspires  good  things  to  men.  He  is  passive. 
You  might  as  well  ask  of  the  sun  his  intention  in  producing 
the  marvellous  effects  of  light  and  shade  in  a  landscape. 
The  inspired  artist  is  like  a  key-board  which  sounds  cor- 
rectly under  the  tremor  which  agitates  it.  We,  all  of  us, 
have  in  us  a  finger-board,  but  some  have  broken  the  cords 
of  their  soul  in  such  a  way  that  the  finger-board  no  longer 
produces  a  sound.  Others  sound  false,  although  feeling 
everything  deeply.  These  are  generally  those  artists  who, 
having  a  lively  conception  of  the  beautiful,  and  a  thirst 
to  express  it,  are  not  endowed  with  the  faculty  of  formu- 
lating what  they  feel.  Sometimes  by  dint  of  slow  and 
patient  researches,  assisted  by  their  insatiable  desire  to  ex- 
press what  they  experience,  they  attain  to  creating  some- 
thing which  approaches  to  genius,  but  the  effort  and  the 
28 


326  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

labour  are  apparent,  two  shackles  which  genius  does  not 
know. 

SpbinofielD)  niinois,  December  20,  1864. 

Concert  this  evening.  This  time  the  audience  listens  to 
us.  Last  time  private  conversations  completely  masked 
the  music.  The  audience  seems  disposed  to  enjoy  what  we 
give  them,  but  it  is  too  late !  the  impression  which,  after 
two  visits,  Springfield  leaves  upon  me  is  very  disagreeable. 
I  have  tried  hard  to  exert  myself,  I  cannot  warm  up,  and 
I  play  like  a  warm-water  spigot.  Besides,  the  hall  is  horri- 
ble ;  a  little,  narrow,  dirty  staircase  leads  to  a  kind  of  Man- 
sard six  feet  square,  filled  with  old  and  dirty  objects.  It  is 
the  artists'  room.  The  small  hall  is  bad  for  hearing.  You  go 
on  to  the  stage  by  stairs  which  are  like  a  ladder.  Dohler 
plays  'Yankee  Doodle'  and  'Camaval  de  Venise,'  two  pieces 
which  never  fail  in  exciting  the  enthusiasm  of  the  audi- 
ence, but  which  invariably  next  day  bring  out  a  severe 
lecture  from  the  newspapers.  Fortunately  we  know  what 
to  think  of  it.    It  is  only  to  save  appearances  that  these 

fentlemen  protest.  They  like  this  trivial  music  secretly, 
ut,  like  all  those  who  are  conscious  of  their  inferiority, 
they  wish  to  conceal  it  by  openly  affecting  to  despise  what 
secretly  they  love.     0  hypocrisy  and  vanity ! 

SERMON  AT  ST.  LOUIS. 

The    preacher  was  evidently  intent  on  emitting   the 

freatest  number  of  words  with  the  smallest  possible  num- 
er  of  ideas — ^like  Hahnemann,  who  pretended  to  distil  the 
ten-thousandth  part  of  a  grain  of  belladonna  into  Lake 
Leman,  and  to  increase  its  power  in  the  ratio  of  its  ivfini- 
tesimability.  This  good  preacher  was  engaged  for  two  hours 
in  drowning  in  an  ocean  of  empty  phrases,  one  or  two  ounces 
of  stale  ideas.  Besides,  improvisation,  as  soon  as  it  be- 
comes a  trade,  has  in  it  this  which  is  wearisome — that  the 
preacher  is  accustomed  to  have  upon  all  subjects  a  collec- 
tion of  formulae  of  which  he  avails  himself  as  soon  as  he 
loses  his  ideas,  or  has  need  to  collect  his  thoughts  in  order 
to  find  them ;  the  tongue  knows  and  repeats  these  formulae 
mechanically,  while  the  mind  is  occupied  elsewhere.  When 
one  has  launched  out  into  a  tortuous  phrase,  and  begins  to 


MILK  AND  WATER.  327 

lose  sight  of  port,  and  knows  no  longer  where  to  land,  he 
easts  anchor  on  amplifications  and  synonyms;  this  keeps 
him  in  his  position,  and  gives  him  time  to  get  back  again. 
This  proceeding  is  like  that  of  the  milkmen  of  London, 
Paris,  and  of  every  other  place  in  the  world  where  there 
are  milkmen  and  water,  who,  out  of  one  vessel  of  milk 
make  ten  or  twelve  by  adding  water  to  it. 

"Yes,  my  dear  brother  (it  is  the  preacher  who  speaks), 
man  is  weaker  than  you  can  possibly  conceive ;  more  feeble 
than  all  (a  little  water),  weaker  than  all  other  feeble  crea- 
tures (a  little  more  water),  weak  because  he  cannot  resist 
temptations  (a  good  pint  of  water),  and  weak  because  he 
yields  instead  of  conquering  (hem !  the  vessel  of  milk  is 
full)."  He  stops  here  to  put  the  full  vessel  to  one  side,  and 
to  begin  at  another,  and  so  on,  to  the  end  of  the  sermon. 

Bloominoton  (HUnois). 

I  am  warming  myself  in  the  concert  hall  before  we  be- 
gin. Hidden  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd  I  look  like  an 
amateur  who  has  come  to  hear.  A  little  fellow  who  sells 
photographs  of  Carlotta  Patti  and  myself  in  the  hall  offers 
me  one,  saying,  "  Do  you  want  the  portrait  of  Chuckle  and 
his  wife  ?"  Who  is  Chuckle  ?  I  asked  him.  "  What !  he 
is  the  man  who  plays  the  piano."  Where  is  he  ?  "  That 
is  he  who  passed  me,"  said  the  little  monster,  pointing  out 
to  me  a  fat  man  who  came  into  the  hall. 

Good  audience — much  applauded. 

We  set  out  again  after  the  concert,  the  cold  being  intense. 
Passed  six  hours  in  suffering,  like  Tantalus,  falling  asleep 
and  not  being  able  to  sleep  for  want  of  room  to  rest.  We 
ought  to  be  four  hours  in  going,  but  as  it  appears  impossi- 
ble for  any  train  in  the  whole  VVest  to  arrive  at  the  pro- 
per time,  we  are  six  hours  on  the  road.  On  our  arrival  we 
took  an  omnibus,  and,  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  jolting,  we 

fot  to  a  little  tavern,  benumbed  with  cold  and  with  broken- 
acks.  Our  companions  in  misfortune  are  two  poor  nuns, 
who,  motionless  and  silent,  draped  in  their  large  black 
veils,  look  like  two  lugubrious  statues  of  penitence  and 
resignation.  Alongside  of  them  are  two  pretty  girls  who 
laugh,  and  whose  thoughtlessness  prevents  us  from  mur- 


328  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

muring,  and  a  young  mother  with  her  baby.  After  having 
waited  in  the  lower  hall  of  the  hotel,  the  landlord  announces 
to  us  that  all  the  chambers  are  taken !  General  consterna- 
tion !  Morelli  complained  in  all  the  exuberance  of  the 
Italian  language ;  for  myself  I  kept  quiet,  which  one  might 
take  for  stoicism,  but  which  was  only  the  apathy  of  de- 
spair. Daybreak  will  not  take  place  for  an  hour."  We 
have  succeeded  in  procuring  some  wood.  The  fire  is  flam- 
ing. Morelli  and  myself  lie  down  upon  the  floor  with  our 
heads  resting  on  our  travelling  bags.  Roasted  on  one  side 
by  the  fire,  and  frozen  on  the  other  by  a  draught  of  wind, 
which  comes  traitorously  in  from  without  under  the  door, 
we  turn  from  side  to  side  every  ten  minutes,  like  a  beef- 
steak in  process  of  being  cooked.  "  Ah !  my  good  friends 
in  N"ew  York !  would  you  might  see  me  at  this  moment,  and 
all  of  you,  you  young  hare-brains,  who  only  perceive  in  an 
artistic  career  a  road  embroidered  with  roses  and  paved  with 

dollars,  meditate  on  this  episode  and At  ten 

o'clock  they  offer  me  a  bed.     I  sleep  for  several  hours. 

Joliet  is  a  pretty,  picturesque,  and  flourishing  little 
town.  Last  year  it  was  the  theatre  of  a  great  scandal.  A 
reverend  gentleman,  a  Protestant  minister,  received  a  cow- 
hiding  from  two  outraged  husbands.  An  inquiry  was  made, 
which  was  followed  by  a  meeting  of  bishops  and  Protest- 
ant ministers  to  try  the  unfortunate  Lovelace.  The  result 
was  that  the  two  outraged  husbands  were  not  the  only  ones 
who  had  a  right  to  complain  of  the  minister,  and  the  num- 
ber of  his  feminine  conquests  was  so  great  that  half  the 
population  of  Joliet  would  have  had  the  right  to  give  him 
a  good  thrashing. 

To  make  a  victorious  tour  of  concerts  in  the  West  is  for 
an  artist  to  gain  his  chevrons.  Bad  hotels,  show,  mud,  rail- 
road accidents,  delays,  setting  out  at  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  etc.  It  requires  an  iron  constitution  and  a  flinty 
will  to  succeed  at  it.  I  am  tempted  to  have  inscribed  at  the 
head  of  my  programmes — "  G.  has  made  the  tour  of  the 
West  three  times,"  as  the  French  legions  inscribe  "  Arcole, 
Marengo,  Austerlitz"  on  their  standards. 

Very  fair  concert  at  Joliet.  Whilst  Dohler  plays  the 
'  Carnival  of  Venice,'  a  man  in  the  audience  (without  doubt 
to  show  that  he  knows  the  tune)  whistles  the  theme  in  uni- 


SINGULAR  EPISODE.  829 

son.  After  the  last  piece  on  the  programme,  a  woman, 
agitated  and  palpitating  with  emotion,  rushed  into  the 
artists'  room,  and  asked  to  see  the  actor  who  played  on  the 
violin.  We  ffuessed  by  her  description  that  she  spoke  of 
Dohler.  "  He  has  already  left,"  some  one  answered , "  and  you 
will  find  him  at  the  hotel."  Upon  this  she  tells  us  with  a 
choking  voice  that  Dohler  is  her  cousin,  that  she  recognized 
him  as  soon  as  he  appeared  on  the  platform,  although  she 
had  not  seen  him  for  ten  years,  that  he  had  always  been  her 
favourite,  that  at  the  age  of  ten  years  he  already  showed — 
a  singular  aptitude  in  catching  mice — that  he  kept  them  in 
a  cage — ^all  this  with  tears  of  joy  interrupted  by  the  ex- 
clamations of  the  crowd  who  listen :  "  Is  it  possible  ?" 
"  That 's  so."  (There  are  always  some  people  ready  to  say 
"  That's  so,"  without  knowing  why,  or  what  the  matter  is.) 
The  episode  is  interesting  and  breaks  the  prosaic  monotony 
of  our  daily  life. 

The  most  interesting  and  pleasant  part  of  the  thing  is 
that  on  our  return  to  the  hotel,  Dohler  relates  to  us  his 
interview  with  his  cousin,  who  began  by  throwing  herself 
into  his  arms,  giving  him  the  most  tender  names ;  the  first 
part  of  the  interview  finished,  the  explanation  began. 

"  I  recognized  thee  as  soon  as  thou  didst  appear ;  dost  thou 
recollect  thy  mice?  Why  didst  thou  leave  thy  paternal 
mansion  to  roam  over  the  world?" — (I  suspect  she  was 
going  to  say  to  play  the  actor  with  a  violin,  but  she 
thought  it  would  be  cruel  on  this  joyful  evening  to  recall 
to  his  feelings  his  present  degradation.) 

"  Dear  Arenburg,"  she  continued,  and  she  prepared  her- 
self to  spring  at  his  neck;  when  Dohler,  who  is  full  of 
modesty  (seemg  she  was  ugly  and  old),  said  to  her,  "  I  am 
not  called  Arenburg,  Madam." 

"How,  unhappy  one,  hast  thou  changed  thy  name?" 

"  My  name  is  Dohler." 

"Miserable  one!  art  thou  ashamed  of  thine — thy  name 
is  Arenburg." 

"Madam,  I  assure  you  that  you  are  mistaken;  I  was 
never  here  before." 

"Inficrate,  dost  thou  not  know  me?  And  the  little  mice?" 

"I  ^o  not  know,"  replied  Dohler.  "I  am  a  German, 
and  I  have  never  haid  anything  to  do  with  mice." 

28* 


330  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

The  ^ood  woman,  not  willing  to  lose  her  riffht  of  relation- 
ship, said  to  him  with  a  tone  of  bitter  reproacn,  and  making 
use  of  the  last  argument,  "  But,  miserable  one,  we  are  rich, 
do  not  fear"  (this  last  remark  gave  me  a  high  opinion  of 
the  lady's  knowledge  of  human  feelings);  but  Dohler,  who 
is  probity  itself,  magnanimously  refused  this  bait  of  opu- 
lence and  persisted  in  denying  that  he  had  ever  played 
with  a  little  white  mouse. 

Set  out  again  Thursday,  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
Cold  as  Sioeria.  It  snowed  yesterday,  and  to-day  we 
have  hail.  The  streets  look  like  a  series  of  little  avar 
lanches.  Stopped  at  a  station  at  seven  o'clock  for  break- 
fast— fallacious  pretext — which  the  sole  appearance  of  a 
leathery  beefsteak  and  the  smell  of  the  coftee  rendered 
simply  absurd. 

I  read  on  a  large  placard  on  the  wall.  "  Caution.  Police 
officers  and  all  good  citizens  are  warned  not  to  trust  two 
young  girls  of  doubtful  reputation,  who  for  some  time 
have  frequented  the  most  fashionable  streets  of  Chicago 
from  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  till  four  in  the  afternoon. 
They  are  pretty,  and  elegantly  dressed.  One  of  them 
generally  wears  a  rose-coloured  silk  hat  and  a  cloak 
trimmed  with  fur.  It  is  hoped  that  the  vigilance  of  the 
police  and  the  zeal  of  good  citizens  will  not  be  relaxed, 
and  that  these  two  adventurers  will  soon  be  arrested  in 
the  very  act  of  persecution  against — ^the  '  Christy  Minstrels' 
whom  they  have  followed  for  a  long  time  around  the 
world  and  who  at  this  moment  are  attracting  the  crowd 
to  Poyant  Hall."  What  do  you  think  of  the  advertise- 
ment? Is  it  ingenious  enough?  The  American  lure  is  a 
science  and  an  art.  Lately  an  omnibus  horse  fell  down 
in  Broadway,  New  York.  He  died  in  a  few  moments. 
It  was  near  the  City  Hall,  where  the  great  artery  contracts, 
and  where  consequently  the  alway  encumbered  circulation 
becomes  more  difficult.  At  the  expiration  of  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  the  street  cart  carried  off  the  poor  animal,  who  was 
already  covered  with  placards.  On  his  belly  you  saw 
"Buy  your  hats  of  Knox." 

The  'Bulkley  Serenaders'  have  invented  a  miniature 
hand-bill.  They  are  miniature  programmes  which  you 
find    stuck  on    your  back,  your    hat,  your    gloves,  by 


ANN  ARBOR,  MICHIGAN.  831 

mysterious,  indefatigable,  and  unseen  hands.  The  Dutch  tonic 

of  Doctor  H is  advertised  in  gigantic  letters  painted  on 

the  rocks  which  overlook  the  falls  of  the  Genesee  River. 
It  gives  one  a  vertigo  to  read  these  big  letters  that  seem 
to  Took  with  true  Dutch  sang  froid  into  the  roaring  gulf 
which  opens  beneath  them.  One  shivers  to  think  of  the 
danger  the  person  ran  who  painted  this  advertisement. 
It  is  the  lure  heroic. 

Arrived  at  Kalamazoo  at  noon,  Thursdav.  Excellent 
hotel,  quite  new.  Charming  concert  ana  respectable 
audience.  No  cries,  or  whisthng.  All  the  pieces  are  en- 
cored. The  appearance  of  the  audience  offers  a  singular 
contrast  to  that  of  Joliet, 

December  3. 

Quit  Kalamazoo  for  Ann  Arbor,  Michigan.  Arrived 
at  five  o'clock.  (Train  behindhand.)  A  flourishing  little 
village  which  particularly  owes  its  importance  to  the  State 
University,  which  at  this  time  numbers  eight  hundred 
and  fifty  students.  They  confer  degrees  here  as  high  as 
doctor  of  science,  of  law,  and  of  divinity.  The  University 
studies  last  four  years,  and  cost  for  the  whole  fifteen 
dollars.  This  sum  is  purely  nominal,  and  is  only  a  pre- 
text in  order  that  the  students  may  not  appear  to  receive 
State  charity. 

To-day  in  the  cars  a  man  said  to  his  neighbour,  who 
asked  him  if  he  knew  the  famous  singer  Goodstock, 
"Yes,  very  well,  there  he  is,"  pointing  to  Muzio,  who  was 
sitting  opposite. 

Saturday,  arrived  at  London  (Canada)  after  a  journey 
of  eight  hours.  Small  town.  Concert  this  evening. 
Canadian  receipts!  Thirty-one  persons  comprising  my 
servants  and  tuner,  who  from  esprit  de  corps  are  sittmg  in 
the  public  seats  in  order  to  increase  the  number.  It  must 
be  acknowledged  that  the  applause  was  in  the  inverse 
ratio  of  the  number.  That  is  to  say,  that  the  audience  is 
wann  and  I  really  know  glad  to  have  come,  and  I  played  my 
best  before  these  twenty-one  heroes  (I  deduct  what  does  not 
belong  to  the  audience)  to  thaink  them  for  their  good-will. 


332  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

New  Year,  1865, 

This  word,  which  sounds  so  deliciously  to  the  ear  during 
our  childhood,  awakens  in  me  only  the  echo  of  vanished 
joys  and  dissipated  illusions.  One  more  step  made  towards 
the  goal !  The  time  is  past  in  which  the  years  glided  away 
too  slowly  for  me.  It  flies  now ;  and  I  see  the  sweet  images 
that  I  found  on  my  road  when  I  commenced  my  march 
disappearing  far  behind  me. 

Dined  with  Mr.  Edward  Harris,  whose  wife  I  knew  at 

Toronto  with  Miss  McC ,    A  charming  family;   the 

aged  mother  receiving  that  respectful  and  tender  affection 
which  is  the  blessed  harvest  that  parents  reap  who  have 
known  how  to  bring  up  their  children.  I  am  particularly 
struck  by  all  this.  We  talk  politics.  The  married  daughter 
is  naturally  in  favour  of  the  South.  It  is  not  difficult, 
when  in  the  company  of  Englishmen,  to  understand  that 
their  sympathy  for  the  South  is  less  the  result  of  their 
sympathy  for  the  people  of  the  South  than  their  antipathy 
for  the  North.  They  do  not  easily  pardon  the  boasting 
of  our  newspapers,  and  the  absurd  and  useless  bravado 
which  our  editors  have  made  use  of  for  so  many  years 
when  speaking  of  England. 

Ann  Arbor. 

A  little  note  is  delivered  between  the  first  and  second 
part  of  the  concert  to  Mdlle.  Simon,  our  soprano,  request- 
ing her  to  sing  'Di  provenza  il  mar'  from  'Traviata' ! 

At  London,  this  morning,  the  newspaper  bestowed  great 
praise  on  our  baritone,  Morelli,  and  his  beautiful  style. 
The  joke  of  the  matter  is  that  Morelli  left  us  two  days 
since  to  return  to  New  York. 

Toronto,  January  3. 

Between  the  first  and  second  part  of  the  concert  a  tele- 
graphic despatch  is  sent  me  which  reads  thus:  " will 

run  away  before  three  days,  if  you  do  not  have  hina 
arrested."' 

This  is  a  French  hairdresser,  who  calls  himself 

Doctor  and  Chevalier  de  St.  Stanislas  de  Russie.  He  has 
speculated  on  shares  with  a  sharper.     Whilst  they  gained, 


DAYTON,  OHIO.  333 

all  went  very  well.  Losses  came,  and  with  them  disputes. 
The  sharper  claimed  eighteen  thousand  dollars.  The 
knight  of  the  razor  had  not  a  red  cent.  They  were  about 
to  arrest  him.  His  wife  and  children  came  and  threw 
themselves  at  my  feet,  begging  me  to  go  bail  for  thirty 
thousand  dollars,  which  would  keep  him  out  of  prison 
until  the  aftair  was  tried.     I  consented  to  it. 

I  leave  you  to  judge  of  the  effect  this  telegram  had  on 
me.  The  concert  is  interrupted.  I  leave  for  ISTew  York 
by  the  first  train  to-morrow  morning.  Unfortunately,  the 
Secretary  of  the  Interior  decided,  two  days  ago,  that  no 
one  can  enter  into  the  United  States  across  the  Canada 
frontier  without  passports  countersigned  by  the  American 
authorities.  This  measure  has  been  taken  to  prevent  the 
incursion  of  rebel  emigrants  from  Canada.  Lately  twelve 
of  these  adventurers  entered  into  the  village  of  St.  Albans 
on  the  frontier,  and  robbed  the  bank  of  three  or  four  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars. 

Habribbubo,  January  28. 

Small  audience,  consequently  great  enthusiasm.  The 
concert  takes  place  in  the  Court  House.  The  artists'  room 
is  generally  the  witnesses'  chamber,  but  the  porter  informs 
us  that  he  has  not  been  able  to  light  a  fixe  in  it,  and  he 
has  put  us  in  the  jurors'  room,  which  is  in  the  second  story. 
The  cold  is  intense.  We  have  to  cross  Siberian  passages 
and  go  up  a  steep  staircase  forty  steps  to  get  to  our  den. 
The  concert  hall  is  below.  At  every  piece  I  put  on  my 
greatcoat,  my  fur  gloves,  and  go  down  forty  steps.  After 
my  piece  I  again  put  on  my  furs,  left  at  the  door,  and  go 
up  the  forty  steps.  The  programme  half  over,  I  have 
already  two  hundred  steps  in  my  legs. 

Datton,  Ohio. 

Excellent  audience  —  sympathetic  and  warm.  Hotel, 
Siberian !  High  ceilings ;  immense,  dark,  and  damp  cor- 
ridors; a  total  absence  of  heaters.  My  Swedish  doctor, 
of  whom  I  have  already  had  occasion  to  speak,  ought  to 
come  here  and  establish  himself  in  one  of  the  halls  01  Phil- 
lips's Hotel.    Besides,  the  young  man  at  the  desk  oflfers  a 


334  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

fine  example  of  the  influence  of  cold  on  human  nature. 
His  behaviour  and  politeness  are  those  of  an  Arctic  polar 
bear. 

February  14. 

Lately,  at  Bethlehem,  a  letter  was  written  to  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  hotel  which  he  made  me  read.  1  transcribe 
it  for  you ;  it  will  give  you  an  idea  of  the  small  amount  of 
dignity  that  is  accorded  to  art,  and  the  free  and  easy  way 
in  which  its  disciples  are  treated : — 

"I. was  not  able  to  go  to  Gottschalk's  concert  last  even- 
ing ;  but  I  understand  that  he  is  at  your  hotel.  Ask  him 
if  he  is  willing  to  come  and  play  for  us,  this  morning,  two 
or  three  of  his  pieces.     Of  course,  I  will  pay  him. 

"  Signed ." 

Three  years  ago  I  gave  a  concert  at  Wilmington  (the 
only  one,  thank  &od,  that  I  ever  gave  there).  Our  com- 
pany consisted  of  Brignoli,  Susini,  Miss  Hinckly,  Morensi, 
jBehrens,  and  myself,  under  the  managerial  baton  of  Stra- 
kosch.  The  receipts  were  twenty-five  dollars.  The  ap- 
plause 0.  Delaware  and  New  Jersey  are  twin  brothers  in 
politics  as  in  music,  and  the  only  two  States  in  which 
musical  art  is  in  its  first  state  of  design.  Muzio  persisted 
a  week  ago  in  trying  again  with  me  his  fortune  at  Wil- 
mington. I  told  him  my  experience,  but  he  would  not 
believe  me.  The  concert  is  announced  eight  days  in  ad- 
vance. We  arrive  at  six  o'clock.  We  go  to  the  hotel, 
which  would  be  hardly  decent  in  a  New  England  village. 
Muzio  visits  the  music  store.  He  comes  back  at  the  end 
of  a  few  minutes.  His  astonished  count^iance  tells  me 
well  enough  that  the  Wilmington  of  1865  likes  concerts 
no  better  than  that  of  1862.  There  are  eight  tickets  for 
the  concert  sold,  and  it  is  six  o'clock  in  the  evening. . 

Muzio,  ten  minutes  afterwards,  gravely  informs  the  seller 
ot  music  that  I  am  taken  with  a  violent  headache  which  will 
not  permit  me  to  appear  this  evening  before  the  eight  ama- 
teurs of  Wilmington.  We  pass  the  evening  at  the  hotel  ^?) 
I  received  through  the  medium  of  a  gentleman  a  letter  m 
a  feminine  hand,  which  I  transcribe  for  the  edification  of 
my  readers. 


TWO  STORIES.  385 

"  We  are  very  disappointed  in  not  hearing  you.  We  are 
many  ladies  now  at  the  music  store;  will  you  be  so  kind  as 
to  come  and  play  something  for  us?  We  will  pay  you  the 
price  of  the  tickets."  No  signature.  Can  it  be,  Madam  or 
Miss,  that  the  innate  delicacy  of  woman,  and  particularly  of 
American  woman — can  it  be  that  the  music  which  you 
must  love  since  you  will  spend  the  evening  at  the  music 
store  awaiting  my  coming  to  play,  has  not  suggested  to 
you  that  it  was  unworthy  of  you  to  speak  of  the  price  of 
the  tickets  f^ 

This  recalls  to  me  two  stories  which  represent  your  action 
under  two  aspects.  One  grotesque,  the  other  uncouth, 
according  as  I  look  at  them  from  the  point  of  view  of  my 
pocket,  or  of  my  heart. 

A  certain  Gascon — ^was  he  a  Gascon  ?  The  French  say  a 
Gascon,  the  English  would  say  an  Irishman,  the  Italians  a 
Neapolitan,  the  Spaniards  an  Andalusian,  each  nation  hav- 
ing its  type  of  clown — which  in  all  is  identically  the  same. 
Let  us  say  Gascon.  A  Gascon  then  saw  at  an  inn  a  beau- 
tiful parrot.  He  had  never  tasted  a  tropical  bird.  He  was 
seized  with  a  desire  to  taste  it.  "  If  the  taste  is  equal  to 
its  plumage  this  must  be  the  pheasant  of  the  American 
forests !" 

"  How  much  for  your  parrot  ?"  "  One  hundred  francs," 
answered  his  host. 

"  Very  well,  cook  it."  The  innkeeper  knew  his  trade. 
He  wrung  the  neck  of  the  poor  bird  and  put  it  immediately 
on  the  spit.  "Now,"  said  the  Gascon,  "give  me  five 
fi^ncs'  worth." 

This  is  for  the  'price  of  the  tickets. 

Now  for  the  second  story. 

I  was  travelling  in  Switzerland  giving  concerts.  I  was 
then  very  young.  Without  doubt,  thaiiKS  to  this  circum- 
stance, more  than  to  my  talent,  there  was  at  Lausanne  a 
great  desire  to  see  and  hear  me.  My  first  concert  attracted 
an  immense  crowd.  I  heard  one  day  an  old  lady  spoken 
of,  who  had  lost  her  fortune,  who  adored  music,  but  whose 
poverty  and  infirmities  prevented  her  from  going  to  hear 
me.  She  had  expressed  her  regrets  by  saying  that  she  had 
never  so  cruellv  felt  the  loss  of  her  fortune  as  in  seeing 
herself  deprived  of  listening  to  music. 


336  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

I  inquired  where  she  lived,  and  introduced  myself  to  her. 
She  was  a  paralytic  lady,  veiy  distinguished  by  her  tastes 
and  her  venerable  appearance,  and  I  shall  never  forget  the 
tender  emotion  which  I  felt  at  the  bottom  of  my  heart  on 
seeing  two  tears  from  her  eyes  when  I  offered  to  pass  the 
evening  with  her,  to  play  for  herself  alone  everything  which 
she  should  be  pleased  to  ask  me.  The  next  morning  after 
this,  to  me,  delicious  evening,  I  received  from  an  English- 
man (0  my  charming  but  indelicate  Wilmington  corre- 
spondents, I  then  thought  that  only  an  Englishman  could 
be  capable  of  such  a  thing)  the  following  letter : — 

"  Sir,  I  hear  that  you  have  been  playing  for  Madame 

. .     My  wife  also  is  ill,  and  for  a  number  of  years  has  not 

left  her  chamber.  She  desires  to  hear  you.  I  offer  you 
ten  dollars  to  play  two  pieces  to  her !" 

My  answer  to  the  Englishman  applies  equally  well  to  my 
"Wilmington  correspondents. 

"I  have  received  the  letter  in  which  you  do  me  the 
honour  of  making  me  the  offer  of  ten  dollars  to  play  two 
pieces  to  your  wife.  I  might  forget  the  want  of  delicacy 
and  tact  which  your  request  shows,  if  it  was  not  for  the 
vexation  it  gives  me  which  prevents  me,  by  its  uncouthness, 
from  acceding  to  the  desire  of  an  invalid." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


Toledo,  Oliver  House. 

One  of  the  best  houses  in  the  United  States.  The  com- 
plaisance of  the  waiter  goes  to  our  heart,  and  fills  it  with 
warm  gratitude,  like  the  rays  of  the  unclouded  sun  that 
melts  the  last  crust  of  snow,  and  makes  the  first  green 
shoots  appear.  A  very  striking  contrast  to  the  insolence 
of  the  man  at  D . 

New  Yobk. 

Three  years  ago  I  wrote  this:  "Heard  yesterday,  for  the 
first  time,  Miss  Kellogg ;  a  charming  artist,  a  great  deal  of 


A  SUBJECT  TO  BE  PROUD  OF,  337 

distinction  in  her  deportment  and  in  her  intelligence," 
Since  then  Miss  Kellogg's  talent  has  only  increased.  The 
part  of '  Marguerite'  in  'Faust'  is  in  every  one's  memory,  and 
will  not  be  easily  eftiaced. 

Is  it  not  a  subject  to  be  proud  of,  to  think  that  we,  who 
yesterday  were  not  able  to  count,  so  to  say,  one  artist,  can 
to-day  claim  as  ours  talents  like  Powers,  Palmer,  Miss 
Stebbins,  Church,  Bierstadt,  etc.?  I  recall  the  astonish- 
ment with  which  they  read  in  Europe  the  tales  of  Poe, 
whose  success  in  France,  England,  and  Germany  was 
already  secured  long  before  his  fellow-countrymen  wished 
to  accord  him  any  merit.  "What!  an  American?"  and 
the  people  were  astonished  that  a  nation  of  merchants  could 
engender  a  poet.  They  only  knew  our  literature  through 
Cooper,  whose  works  are  translated  into  every  tongue. 
Washington  Irving  himself,  although  his  name  is  known, 
has  never  had  any  literary  success  outside  of  the  United 
States,  except  in  England. 

But  the  Americanophobes  also  say :  Poe  has  never  been 
understood  in  his  own  country.  From  whence  has  come  the 
great  opposition  of  that  clique  of  imbecile,  jealous,  and 
sterile  pedants,  who,  like  thistles  and  thorns,  always 
encumber  the  avenues  of  all  the  arts,  and  dispute  their 
place  in  the  sun  with  the  generous  and  vivacious  plants, 
who,  instead  of  thorns,  present  to  the  sight  flowers  and 
fruit  ?  How  many  scratches  and  wounds  for  the  man  of 
talent  before  he  gets  rid  of  these  impertinent  brambles  ? 
"  He  had  immoral  principles."  Ah !  that  is  the  great  word. 
When  then  will  you  separate  the  man  from  the  writer  ? 
the  instrument  from  the  thought  ?    Will  you  find  the  vir- 

fins  of  Raphael  lacking  in  purity,  because  Raphael  loved 
'ornarina?  Do  you  deny  the  perfume  of  the  attar  of  roses 
because  the  Chinese  inclose  it  in  jars  of  stone  instead  of 
vases  of  gold  ?  By  this  reckoning,  villanous  verses  made 
by  a  virtuous  writer  ought  to  be  read  in  preference  to  the 
poetry  of  Byron,  who  was  far  from  being  a  vessel  of  elec- 
tion r' 

Let  me  be  understood.     I  lament  that  the  man  of  genius 

is,  sometimes,  from  his  private  character  unworthy  of  the 

sentiments  which  his  writings  inspire ;  but  do  not  forget 

that  he  dies,  while  his  works  live.     His  neighbours  only 

29 


338  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

are  interested  in  knowing  that  he  gets  drunk,  or  that 
he  is  not  a  believer.  But  his  works  !  They  pass  through 
the  ages,  luminous  and  immaculate.  They  ennoble  and 
purity  coming  generations  of  civilized  nations,  and  are 
the  only  source  of  human  perfectibility.  What  does  it 
matter  to  me  that  Raphael  was  not  married  to  Fomarina  ? 
La  Vierge  k  la  chaise,  in  which  the  divine  child  looks  on  us, 
is  not  less  admired  by  thousands.  Rembrandt  was  a  miser. 
Are  his  lights  and  shadows  less  marvellous  ?  Was  he  a 
miser  of  his  palette  ?  Victor  Hugo  has  not  always  been  a 
pattern  of  conjugal  fidelity.  The  '  Cricket  on  the  Hearth,' 
ravishing  in  its  virtue,  is  not,  some  say,  the  picture  of 
Dickens's  hearth.  Are  the  leaves  withered  by  the  twilight? 
Is  the  author  of '  David  Copperfield'  on  that  account  less  of 
a  great  writer  ?  No !  Let  us  comprise  in  art  less  of  sterile 
and  narrow  morality,  and  more  of  love  for  the  beautiful 
(that  is  to  say,  for  the  good  and  the  true). 

To  make  the  works  of  the  artist  responsible  for  the  whole 
of  his  private  life,  is  also  unjust,  and  seems  to  me  as  absurd 
as  to  deny  the  tone  of  a  fine  piano  whose  case  might  be  of 
rough  wood.  I  know  a  celebrated  flutist,  who  insisted  on 
playing  at  his  concerts  on  a  presentation  flute  of  massive 
silver.  It  had  the  sharpest  sound  in  the  world.  Alas! 
how  many  silver  flutes  are  admired  in  the  world  of  art  ? 
Of  course,  I  understand  that  if  you  are  to  choose  your 
neighbours,  it  would  be  more  disagreeable  to  have  near  you 
a  man,  whatever  his  talents  might  be,  whose  morals  might 
corrupt  all  around  him,  than  a  very  respectable  imbecile. 
So,  when  you  purchase  a  piano  to  correspond  with  your 
furniture,  you  select  one  in  mahogany  or  ebony  before  in- 
quiring if  it  has  a  fine  tone ;  but  I  quite  as  much  contest 
your  right  to  proscribe  the  fine  inspirations  of  your  artist 
neighbour  of  doubtful  morals,  because  you  have  observed 
that  he  goes  to  church  less  frequently  than  yourself,  as  to 
deny  the  beautiful  tone  of  a  fine  instrument  because  it  is 
not  varnished. 

Do  you  pause  when  you  hear  a  symphony  of  Beethoven 
played  by  the  Philharmonic  Orchestra  of  BTew  York  with 
that  intelligent  devotion  which  makes  it  one  of  the  best 
orchestras  m  the  world — do  you  pause  to  observe  if  the 
performers  are  in  full  dress,  if  the  piccolo  has  his  hair  care- 


AMUSING  CONVERSATION.  339 

fully  combed,  and  if  the  violiniBts  in  the  front  rows  have 
their  boots  blackened  ?    Certainly  not ;  and  it  is  fortunate, 
for  your  pleasure  would  often  be  diminished. 
Poor  Poe !    He  drank !    Who  knows  it  now  ? 

The  other  day  in  the  car,  there  being  no  seat,  I  took 
refuge  in  the  baffgage-car,  and  there  I  smoked  for  two 
hours,  seated  on  the  case  of  my  piano,  alongside  of  which, 
0  human  frailty !  were  two  other  cases  also  inclosing  in- 
struments, now  mute,  since  the  principle  which  made  tnem 
vibrate,  under  a  skilful  touch,  like  a  keyboard,  has  left 
them.  They  were  the  bodies  of  two  young  soldiers  killed 
in  one  of  the  late  battles. 

Dunkirk,  February  14. 

Conversation  between  two  ladies  who  conversed  in  the 
corridor  of  the  hotel  opposite  my  chamber :  "  What  an 
eccentric  man  this  Gottschalk  is.  He  is,  however,  no 
great  thing.  Lately,  at  Boston,  he  had  to  leave  suddenly, 
and  his  concerts  no  longer  attract  anybody ! 

Another  amusing  thing.  At  St.  Louis,  an  officer  speakr 
ing  of  me  to  a  lady,  one  of  my  friends  being  near : — 

Lady.  "  Has  he  received  any  education  ?" 

Officer.  "  !None  at  all ;  but  that  does  not  prevent  him 
from  being  a  very  good  fellow." 

Lady.  "  I  thought  so." 

Officer.  "  Say  nothing  bad  of  him,  I  beg  you ;  for,  as  I 
have  told  you,  he  is  one  of  my  friends." 

Lady.  "  How  does  he  speak  French  ?" 

Officer.  "  Oh !  very  imperfectly ;  but  you  know  he  is  a 
Spaniard." 

0  truth !  why  art  thou  not  petroleum !  One  would  at 
least  know  where  to  dig  a  well  to  make  thee  flow  out. 

February  16.   . 

Superb  concert  at  Rochester.  An  anomaly.  A  crowd, 
and  a  great  deal  of  enthusiasm. 

Batavia,  February  17.   , 

ITo  audience,  and  no  applause.  Just  as  we  are  com- 
mencing, the  man  who  attends  to  the  gas  forewarns  us 
that  at  nine  o'clock  all  the  lights  will  be  extinguished. 


840  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

Erie,  February  18. 

Arrived  at  half-past  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening  at  the 
hotel  in  a  sleigh  from  the  station.  I  was  struck  with  a  snow- 
ball on  the  temple,  and  was  stunned  by  the  blow.  How 
cruel  and  brutal  the  lower  class  of  the  Americans  are ! 

Hardly  any  enthusiasm  at  the  concert.  I  asked  the 
reason  of  it.  I  am  answered :  "  No  one  here  pays  a  dollar 
for  a  ticket,  and  it  made  the  people  angry  to  pay  that 

frice."  What  a  wilful  and  capricious  child  the  public  is ! 
t  is  vexed  to  pay  a  dollar;  then  why  did  it  come?  When 
the  dollar  is  once  disbursed,  why  not  be  amused  instead  of 
pouting?  Let  it  at  least  try  to  get  something  for  its 
money.  This  recalls  those  spoiled  children  to  me,  who, 
because  they  have  not  as  many  sweets  given  to  them  as 
they  want,  throw  all  that  has  been  given  them  on  the 
ground.  Whom  have  you  punished  by  being  sulky  ?  Do 
you  think  that  it  is  I  ?  Certainly  not ;  because  you  have 
paid  your  dollar  and  have  come  to  the  concert.  You  com- 
plain that  the  concert  is  too  short.  Why  have  you  not 
made  it  longer  ?  I  have  never  refused  to  repeat  a  piece, 
and,  in  the  six  or  seven  thousand  concerts  which  I  have 
given,  it  has  not  happened  one  hundred  times  that  I  have 
refused  an  encore. 

I  have  never  seen  so  many  tipplers  and  drinkine-places, 
and  consequently  so  many  drunkards,  as  at  Washington. 
There  are  many  degrees  of  drunkenness  (they  are  all  of 
them  most  ignoble),  but  there  is  the  habitual  drunkard, 
and  he  is  worse  than  the  others. 

The  newspapers  say  that  Washington  is  the  most  im- 
moral city  in  the  United  States.  "It  is  a  Gomorrah," 
says  one  paper.  Rest  assured  that,  if  it  ever  is  on  fire,  it 
will  not  be  a  fire  from  heaven,  but  from  spontaneous  com- 
bustion, 

February  18. 

On  the  road  from  Erie  to  Lockport,  thirteen  hours  on 
the  road,  the  train  got  off  the  rails.  "  It  is  the  first  time 
that  it  has  happened  for  six  months,"  is  the  invariable 
phrase  of  the  conductor.  But  I  declare  that,  in  the  three 
months  which  I  have  travelled  in  the  West,  it  is  the  forty- 


AUNT  LIBBY.  841 

eighth  time  that  the  train  on  which  I  have  been  has  been 
stopped  by  an  accident,  either  to  itself,  or  from  the  train 
which  preceded  us,  and  obstructed  the  road. 

At  this  evening's  concert,  Lockport,  faithfUl  to  its  tradi- 
tions, furnishes  us  with  a  Lockport  audience — that  is  to 
say  one  hundred  persons  gaping  tor  their  money,  and  who 
do  not  applaud.  "  The  scalded  cat  dreads  cold  water."  At 
the  first  concert  which  I  gave  here,  there  were  three  hun- 
dred persons.  They  had  never  seen  such  an  entertainment, 
and  swore  that  no  one  should  take  them  in  again.  Since 
then  I  have  tried  my  fortune  here  four  or  five  times,  but 
always  with  the  same  result.  This  evening,  however,  they 
have  varied  the  monotony  a  little  by  hissing. 

"  Pardon  me,  O  Muse !  I  have  cut  thy  wings,  and  instead 
of  lettinff  thee  fly  into  space,  I  have  used  thee  to  make  the 
pot  boil. 

It  is  not  for  music,  no  more  is  it  for  art,  to  come  and  give 
a  concert  at  Lockport. 

The  artist's  imagination  has  no  wings  save  when  it  is  in 
those  spheres  in  which  it  can  unfold  them  and  fly.  Here 
it  becomes  a  gosling,  and  is  only  good  to  make  the  pot  boil. 
We  have  not  even  that  consolation  at  Lockport. 

Utica,  May  2. 

As  always  a  charming  audience.    I  have  paid  visits  to 

all  my  good  friends.    S ,  a  charming  man,  and  good 

musician.    Dr.  K ,  my  old  friend,  a  man  of  great  merit, 

who  has  written  some  important  works  on  insanity.  I  have 
naturally  visited  the  asylum,  and  have  been  recognized  by 
aU  my  friends.  'Aunt  Libby,'  an  old  woman  with  pale 
complexion,  immediately  recognized  me.  She  is  always 
dressed  in  a  pink  gown,  with  a  very  large  sash,  a  plaited  cap 
decorated  with  gut  paper,  and  a  little  white  woollen  shawl 
trimmed  with  Slue  muslin.  Small,  plain  shoes.  She  in- 
forms us  that  the  Queen  of  England  is  enchanted  to  visit  her, 
and  gives  her  the  sum  of  five  hundred  thousand  dollars. 
We  play  and  sing  in  the  principal  hall  of  the  asylum.  All 
are  standing  around  us  listening.  Aunt  Libby,  who  is 
conscious  of  her  high  position,  whilst  we  are  playing,  opens 
with  an  air  of  great  dignity  an  umbrella,  which  she  holds 

29* 


342  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

the  whole  time  in  the  air.  I  ask  her  to  play  or  sing,  which 
she  does  after  being  well  persuaded.  .  I  give  her  my  arm 
to  conduct  her  to  the  piano.  She  requests  me  with  great 
familiarity  and  condescension  to  hold  her  fan  and  her  hand- 
kerchief. The  good  old  woman  improvises  a  kind  of 
guitar  accompaniment  (always  in  c),  a  sort  of  chant  to  words 
also  improvised — '  I  see  the  Angels,'  tuck^  tuck^  tuck.  '  I 
see  the  Angels,'  ding^  dong  (belt)^  duck^  tuck^  tuck  (here  she 
tries  a  scale),  and  looking  with  evident  pleasure,  first  at 
the  key-board,  then  at  those  around  her,  she  commences 
'Yankee  Doodle,'  then  ends  with  'God  save  the  Queen,' 
'  King  George,'  ding^  dong  ;  another  flourish  under  the  form 
of  a  scale,  then  she  rises  from  the  piano  to  receive  with  a 
modest  air  our  compliments.  Poor  old  woman!  she  is 
enchanted,  and  ofters  to  show  me  her  sanctum  sanctorum, 
which  is  full  of  shells,  and  all  sorts  of  curious  things. 
Then  another  lady  is  introduced  to  us,  who  recognizes 
L ,  to  his  great  consternation,  as  having  been  her  hus- 
band! Afterwards  we  see  a  lady  who  believes  herself 
to  have  been  betrothed  to  General  Washington,  and  be- 
queathed by  him  to  all  the  presidents  of  the  United  States. 
She  is  evidently  conscious  of  the  prolific  grandeur  of  her 
mission,  and  rejoices  in  having  been  the  instrument  for  a 
population  of  thirty  million  souls. 

I  recognize  some  of  the  cases  which  last  year  were  among 
the  worst.  These  now  are  persons  of  distinguished  ana 
modest  behaviour,  who  have  so  well  progressed  that  in  a 
short  time  they  will  leave  the  asylum. 

Buffalo,  March  23,  24,  and  25. 

Charming  concert.  Kind  audience.  I  love  Buffalo  and 
Rochester ;  these  are  two  cities  in  which  I  always  play  wuth 

treasure.  Syracuse  is  cold.  I  have  never  obtained  there  a 
arge  audience.  The  last  concert  was  a  "  chilly  affair." 
That  is  what  the  newspapers  say.  It  rightly  adds,  that  the 
audience  and  the  artist  parted  mutually  disgusted  with 
each  other.  It  is  true  at  least,  as  far  as  regards  one  of 
them,  the  audience,  if  I  might  judge  from  its  behaviour. 
Not  one  applause  from  the  beginning  to  the  end.  I  never- 
theless did  my  best,  and  I  am  certain  that  this  audience, 
under  the  spur  of  three  or  four  claqueurs,  would  have  warmed 


VAL  UE  OF  APPLA  USE.  343 

up,  and  would  have  found  that  charming  which  to-day  is 
found  wearisome.  The  commencement  of  a  concert  may 
be  compared  to  the  first  stage  of  a  grand  dinner,  before  the 
ice  is  broken,  when  every  one  is  afraid  to  break  the  silence, 
and  we  hardly  dare  to  speak  to  our  neighbour  but  below 
our  breath.  If  amonff  the  guests  there  is  one  who  breaks 
the  ice,  immediately  all  speak  at  once,  and  the  conversation 
having  become  general,  each  one  tries  to  keep  it  up.  In  a 
concert,  if  there  is  a  knot  of  determined  persons  who,  bold 
enough,  dare  to  give  the  signal,  the  crowd  immediately 
follow  the  current.  It  warms  up,  the  nerves  are  affected 
by  it ;  the  excitement  causes  them  to  discover  points  which 
otherwise  would  have  passed  by  unperceived.  It  gives  to 
their  perception  a  susceptibility  which  it  would  not  have 
under  ordinary  circumstances,  and  sometimes  even  makes 
them  discover  imaginary  beauties,  so  great  is  their  impa- 
tience to  find  food  for  their  excitement.  Figure  to  yourself, 
on  the  contrary,  that  there  are  no  claqueurs ;  you  play  the 
first  piece.  The  bond  is  not  yet  established  between  the 
artist  and  the  audience. 

The  artist  is  ignorant  of  the  disposition  of  the  audience ; 
the  latter  may  have  liked  the  piece,  which  being  finished, 
an  amateur  counting  on  the  enthusiasm  of  Sie  others 
applauds  warmly — clap!  clap!!  but  finding  himself  alone 
he  dreads  being  remarked.  Some  turn  and  look  at  him. 
Like  a  tortoise  that  precipitately  withdraws  his  head 
into  his  shell  after  having  stealthily  adventured  to  see 
what  is  going  on  around  him,  he  becomes  as  small  as 
possible  and  takes  on  an  indifterent  air  to  divert  the  sus- 
picions of  those  who  are  looking  at  him.  The  artist,  who 
does  not  read  the  thoughts  of  the  audience  and  judges 
of  its  sentiments  only  by  its  applause,  thinks  that  he  is 
not  appreciated.  He  becomes  oppressed  by  a  feeling  of 
injustice,  and  hastens  to  finish  a  task  which  he  believes 
to  be  equally  as  painful  to  the  audience  as  to  himself. 
He  even  skips  those  passages  which  he  would  have 
lengthened  con  amove  under  other  circumstances  if  he 
was  sure  of  being  appreciated.  Like  a  flame  in  a  heavy 
and  moist  atmosphere  his  inspirations  diminish  and  end 
by  becoming  extinguished.  Audience  and  artist,  for  want 
of  mutual  understanding,  and  whilst  both  are  animated 


344  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

with  the  best  intentions,  part  disgusted  with  each  other. 
This  is  what  happened  at  Syracuse,  only  the  audience, 
whose  mind  was  not  very  enlightened  on  all  these  points, 
and  had  only  instinct  to  guide  it,  on  retiring,  was  satisfied 
with  saying  that  it  was  cold  and  that  the  concert  was  long 
and  fatiguing,  because,  not  willing  to  accuse  itself  of  not  being 
able  to  appreciate  it,  it  was  satisfied  and  found  it  infinitely 
more  convenient  to  accuse  the  artist  with  indifterence  and 
unwillingness  to  oblige. 

My  God,  what  features!  I  have  never  seen  anything 
more  artistic  or  a  more  striking  harmony  of  contour  than 
in  this  young  face  white  as  polished  ivory,  set  off  by  a 
crown  of  ebon  hair.  There  is  there  perhaps  the  stuff  for  a 
great  artist  or  for  a  superior  intelligence.  Halt  there,  my 
imagination!  do  not  build  up  a  romance,  but  pay  your 
dollar  to  the  collector  who  comes  to  snatch  you  from  your 
admiration  by  asking  you  to  pay  for  your  dinner.  As  for 
my  Sappho,  she  is  at  this  moment  handing  a  plate  of  pork 
and  beans  to  a  traveller.    What  a  fall! 

New  York,  April  3. 

Set  out  from  New  York  for  California  in  company  with 
Muzio  and  his  wife.    I  am  engaged  by  him. 

Once  on  a  time,  a  year  since,  I  said  without  thinking 
much  about  it,  "I  will  make  a  trip  to  South  America. 
Some  days  after  one  of  my  friends  came  up  to  me  and 
asked  me  when  I  was  going.  A  month  afterwards  some 
newspapers  announced  that  I  was  leaving  the  United 
States  to  make  a  long  tour  of  concerts.  I  understood  that 
I  ought  to  rid  the  public  and  my  friends  of  my  presence 
for  one  or  two  years. 

I  was  occupying  myself  with  tracing  out  the  itinerary 
of  my  voyage  when  an  impressario  offered  me  an  engage- 
ment for  some  months.  The  impressario  for  the  purpose 
of  stimulating  the  reluctant  ones  put  on  the  placards, 
"  farewell  concerts  before  his  departure."  The  tour  finished, 
the  summer  again  found  me  m  New  York.  Saratoga  is 
tempting.  I  put  off  my  departure  for  the  autumn.  Some 
friends  pleased  themselves  by  saying  to  me  in  a  disappointed 
manner,  "Oh  ho,  I  thought  you  had  left."  The  news- 
papers declared  my  presence  in  a  bittersweet  way,  by  re- 


**  WHAT!  YOU  ARE  STILL  HERE.''  845 

calling  to  me  that  I  had  put  *  farewell  concerts'  on  my 

flacards,  which  was  equivalent  to  deceiving  the  public, 
took  up  again  my  itinerary  and  I  bought  a  larjge  trunk. 
Another  lucrative  engagement  presented  itself.  To  refuse 
was  easy,  'but  a  bird  m  the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the 
bush.'  I  decided  to  remain.  Besides,  you  have  already 
understood  that  I  had  no  desire  to  leave,  and  that  I  was 
burning  to  find  a  pretext  to  offer  to  'Dame  Reason'  to 
justify  my  change  of  plans.  The  newspapers  occupied 
themselves,  some  with  interest,  others  with  sourness,  about 
my  delay  in  going.  My  friends  overwhelmed  me  under 
the  weight  of  an  incessant  "what!  you  are  still  here,"  and 
my  disappointed  fellow  artists  began  to  cast  ferocious 
looks  at  me.  There  was  a  general  alarm.  I  must  resign 
myself,  willingly  or  unwillingly,  at  the  same  time  cursing 
the  want  of  reflection  with  which  one  day  I  had  expressed 
the  possibility  of  my  making  a  tour  to  South  America. 

For  those  who  live  on  the  outside  of  art,  entering  it 
only  through  the  public  door,  one  pianist  more  or  less  is 
no  more  than  a  grain  of  sand  carried  by  the  winds  of  the 
desert,  but  for  the  unsatiated  and  famished  giver  of  con- 
certs and  their  agents  one  pianist  less  is  a  piece  more  of 
cake  to  divide  among  themselves;  it  is  a  mean  of  one 
hundred  concerts  during  the  season  whose  receipts  come 
back  to  the  common  mass.  It  is  one  hundred  thousand 
dollars  which  falls  to  them  from  heaven,  without  taking 
into  consideration  the  relief  to  their  amour  propre.  The 
absent  are  always  in  the  wrong,  and  once  gone,  the  public 
thinks  little  of  an  artist  whom  once  it  had  made  its  idol. 

One  fine  morning  in  February,  1865, 1  made  a  contract 
with  Muzio  to  go  to  California.  This  contract  which  I 
made  as  reasonable  as  possible  was  thus  conceived  "  that  my 
impressario  in  all  probability  could  not  lose  much  in  case 
of  failure  and  in  case  of  success  would  have  his  share  of 
the  profits."  For  ten  years  I  had  thought  of  visiting 
California.  In  1855,  the  great  Smith,  the  old  agent  of 
Jenny  Lind,  offered  me  an  engagement  for  San  Francisco 
which  I  accepted.  He  was  to  go  on  board  the  steamer  San 
Francisco,  I  think,  preceding  me  one  month,  but  two  hours 
before  embarking  he  broke  his  leg,  and  in  this  manner 
escaped  the  terrible  catastrophe  which  took  place  two  or 


346  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

three  days  afterwards — ^the  shipwreck  of  the  vessel,  and  the 
loss  of  more  than  one-half  of  the  passengers.  The  unlucky 
one,  nevertheless,  was  predestined,  for  he  was  lost,  some  one 
told  me,  on  board  of  the  steamer  Baltic. 

Muzio  announces  a  series  of  farewell  concerts  at  New 
York,  the  last  this  time,  my.  passage  being  taken.  Some 
may  remember,  perhaps,  the  marks  of  sympathy  and  the 
magnificent  present  that  I  received  in  these  last  soirees, 
which  were  crowned  by  two  concerts  in  one  day,  one  at  the 
New  York  Academy  of  Music  in  the  morning,  and  the 
other  at  Brooklyn  in  the  evening. 

With  a  heart  swollen  and  agitated  by  all  the  emotions 
which  the  moment  of  separation  from  those  we  love  brings 
with  it,  when  launching  ourselves  into  the  unknown,  I  em- 
barked the  third  of  April  on  board  the  Ariel.  On  leaving 
New  York  I  felt  how  happy  I  had  been  there.  Every  face 
which  was  familiar  to  me  seemed  more  tender,  more  sym- 
pathetic, and  even  the  most  insignificant  became  interesting. 

It  was  not  until  then  that  I  discovered,  by  feeling  them 
jbreak  one  by  one,  by  how  many  invisible  threads  I  was 
attached  to  the  United  States.    What  did  it  matter  to  me 

that  Mr.  D ,  of  Boston,  maintained  in  his  journal  that 

I  was  an  idiot ;  that  Mr.  H ,  of  New  York,  aflBrmed  in 

his  that  I  did  not  know  music.  I  was  recalling  only  those 
pin-point  annoyances  in  opposition  to  the  kind  friendships 
which  remained  faithful  to  me,  and  to  the  invariable  pub- 
lic sympathy  which  had  followed  me  in  so  many  concerts ! ! 
But  alas !  we  always  feel  grief  more  vividly  than  joy.  It 
is  true  I  shall  no  longer  read  the  bilious  eflPiisions  of  Mr. 

D and  H ,  but  is  the  getting  rid  of  the  attacks  of 

these  wicked  fools  a  compensation  for  all  that  I  lose  that  is 
good  and  generous? 

April  8. 

I  have  been  plunged  for  four  days  in  Tartarus.  Sea- 
sickness has  confined  me  to  my  cabin,  but  the  sea  is  now 
calm,  and  here  I  am  on  deck  smoking  a  cigar  (which  on 
board  is  the  superlative  of  boasting),  our  brave  little 
steamer  making  eleven  knots  per  hour.  My  thoughts  lose 
themselves  in  the  past  at  the  rate  of  fifteen  hundred  miles 
per  second  from  New  York,  and  from  all  those  whom  I  love ! 

We  are  over  four  hundred  passengers,  many  of  whom  are 


OUR  PASSENGERS.  347 

emigrants.  In  the  first  class  we  form  the  most  heteroge- 
neous assemblage  that  can  possibly  be  imagined !  Singers : 
Striglia,  Misses  Phillips,  Senori  Orlandi,  Fossetti,  Mr. 
Muzio,  Miss  Simon,  his  wife  (they  were  married  the  very 
morning  of  our  departure),  Dan  Setehell,  the  talented  actor, 
a  United  States  marshal  (of  sweet  and  amiable  manners), 
a  judge,  a  lawyer,  a  person  of  gross  and  sour  manners, 
who  meddles  in  everybody's  business,  and  contradicts 
every  one,  treads  on  your  toes  without  asking  pardon,  and 
puts  his  enormous  chair  in  the  most  crowded  places,  and 
where  there  is  the  least  room.  There  are  also  a  number  of 
senators  and  doctors,  amiable  people  who  make  themselves 
agreeable  to  everybody,  and  three  ministers,  who  preach 
officially  twice  on  Sunday,  and  oflBciously  the  whole  day 
during  the  week ;  some  ladies,  and  a  considerable  residue 
of  that  well-known  class  of  passengers  without  expression 
whose  business  seems  to  be  to  repeat  from  time  to  time — 
"  Fine  weather,"  "  Tolerably  hot,"  "  Dinner  will  soon  be 
ready,"  and  other  equally  interesting  remarks,  whose 
momentary  clearness  seems  only  to  augment  the  obscurity 
into  which  they  again  fall  after  having  ventured  these  re- 
markable observations. 

We  have  many  ladies,  but  they  are  all  married,  two  of 
them  having  lighted  the  torch  of  hymen  the  day  of  their 
departure.  One  of  them,  a  foreigner,  takes  the  greatest 
possible  care  in  being  where  her  husband  is  not.  '  Flirtar 
tion,'  as  far  as  concerns  us  old  bachelors,  is  very  rare  here, 
and  I,  isolated  and  alone,  content  myself  with  observing. 
I  see,  as  the  day  declines,  each  happy  couple  seeking  a  lone 
comer,  and  this  involuntarily  recalls  to  me  the  poor  fam- 
ished ones  who  suck  in  the  savoury  flavours  which  escape 
from  the  kitchen  window. 

AprU  12. 

In  sight  of  the  port  of  Aspinwall. 

During  our  dinner,  a  second-class  passenger  has  written 
for  amusement  a  bill  of  fare  which  he  has  nailed  to  the 
quarter-deck. 

The  heading  is  a  tortoise,  very  well  drawn,  with  a  chim- 
ney on  his  back  and  a  wheel  on  each  side,  representing  the 
steamer  Ariel,  on  which  we  are,  and  which  is  known  as 
the  slowest  steamer  on  the  line. 


848 


NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 


SECOND-CLASS— THREE  HUNDRED  DOLLARS. 

(Nothing  extra  for  meals.) 

BILL  OF  FARE, 

DiNlfEB. 

Turtle, 
(scratched  out) 

Vanderbistallen, 
Boast, 

Oyster, 
(scratched  out) 

Turkey, 
(scratched  out) 

Lamb, 
(scratched  out) 

Gutta  Percha, 
BoOed. 

Goose, 
(scratched  out) 

Beef. 

(scratched  oat) 

Chicken, 
(scratched  out) 

Owl, 

Fried. 

Ham. 
(scratched  out) 

Oysters, 
(scratched  out) 

• 

Boot  Heels, 

Ham  and  Eggs. 
(scratched  out) 

Green  Peas, 
(scratched  out) 

Jerusalem  Artichokes, 

Vegetables, 
Beets  (diseased). 

Side  Dishes. 

Cauliflower, 
(scratched  out) 

Baked  Beans, 
(scratched  out) 

Hard-tack  {k  la  Monitor) 

,  Lobster  Salad, 
(scratched  out) 

Pilot  Bread   (k  la  Iron- 
sides), 


Dessert. 


Custard  Pie, 
(scratched  out) 

Dried  Cucumber  Pie. 


Extras, 


Ice  Water. 


Minced  Pie, 
(scratched  out) 

Antediluvian  Pie, 
C.  S.  Army  Pie, 

Tomato  Ketchup, 
Please  report  any  civilities  on  the  part  of  waiters. 

Gabibbban  Stbau-Pbintebs. 

This  proves  little  in  favour  of  the  table.  From  the  first 
cabin  I  can  judge  of  the  second,  and  the  satire  is  just  and 
true. 


ASPINWALL.  349 


CHAPTER  XXn. 

April  12/ 

Eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Land  in  sight.  We 
see  the  mountains  of  New  Grenada  rising  up  on  the  hori- 
zon. At  two  o'clock  we  distinguish  Aspinwall;  some 
white  houses,  in  the  midst  of  which  the  American  flag 
floats  in  the  breeze ;  a  little  further  on  a  Protestant  church 
of  cut  stone  and  Gothic  architecture  presents  a  singular 
effect  in  the  midst  of  the  palm-trees  and  bamboos  which 
surround  it.  Aspinwall  is  still  only  a  village ;  its  popula- 
tion does  not  exceed  one  thousand  souls,  two-thirds  of 
which  is  composed  of  negroes;  but,  thanks  to  the  flux  and 
reflux  of  travellers,  who  every  five  or  six  days  cross  the 
isthmus  from  one  ocean  to  the  other,  it  has  a  certain  com- 
mercial importance  and  extraordinary  animation.  It  wakes 
up  immediately  on  the  arrival  of  a  steamer.  Hardly  at  the 
wharf,  the  steamer  is  invaded  by  negro  porters  with  large 
pointed  bonnets  on  their  heads,  which  recall  those  of  the 
astrologers,  made  from  the  stringy  bark  of  a  tree,  and  are 
of  the  colour  of  tow.  We  have  great  trouble  to  keep  off 
this  turbulent  officious  swarm,  who  seize  by  force  every 
package  that  is  in  sight,  and  without  disquieting  them- 
selves .about  the  proprietor,  and  whether  you  are  willing 
or  unwilling,  carry  it  on  land.  At  a  hundred  yards  from 
the  wharf  we  find  ourselves  in  a  street,  about  five  hundred 
yards  long,  in  which  every  house  is  a  hotel.  There  are 
twelve  or  fifteen,  one  after  another,  all  American.  They 
are  one-story  frame-houses  with  a  porch.  The  roof  extends 
above  the  porch,  which  is  sustained  by  beams,  and  forms 
a  veranda  on  the  ground  floor. 

The  negress  fruit-sellers  abound.  They  are  clad  in  white 
muslin  gowns,  low  in  the  neck,  with  short  sleeves.  The 
colour  of  the  dress  is  sullied  by  the  dust,  scorched  by  the 
sun,  and  rumpled  by  the  rain.  Eight  or  ten  rows  of 
flounces  are  ranged  one  above  the  other  as  high  as  the 
30 


350  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

waist.  Bare  feet.  They  followed  us,  offering  us,  in  poor 
English,  bananas,  cocoa-nuts,  oranges,  and  some  cigars,  for 
which  they  made  us  pay  ten  times  their  value.  I  buy 
some  bananas.  '•  How  much  ?"  I  said  to  her.  "  Fifty 
cents,"  she  answered  me.  I  give  her  a  dollar  note,  which 
she  returns  to  me,  preferring  not  to  sell  to  taking  paper. 

The  sun  is  burning  hot.  We  enter,  while  waiting  the 
departure  of  the  train,  the  Howard  Hotel,  kept  by  Mrs. 
Smith,  an  American.  Unfortunately  for  me,  there  is.  a 
piano  in  the  large  hall.  The  passengers  assemble  and  force 
me  to  play.  The  instrument  is  from  the  factory  of  Eaven 
&  Bacon,  of  New  York ;  it  numbers  many  lustres,  and  one 
lives  fast  under  the  tropics.  The  strings  have  not  resisted 
the  climate.  Some  low  notes  remain.  I  utilize  them  by 
playing  a  semblance  of  my  'Banjo,'  and  clear  out. 

The  train  leaves.  It  is  full.  The  road  is  lined  with 
thick  jungles  of  mangles,  bind-weed,  bamboos,  and  palms. 
Sometimes  the  road  widens ;  then  we  perceive  one  or  two 
farmers'  huts.  Their  architecture  is  primitive :  there  are 
four  beams,  on  which  is  placed,  at  four  or  five  feet  from 
the  earth,  a  roofing  of  palm-leaves.  The  soil  around  the 
cabin  is  still  black  from  the  fire,  which,  by  burning  the 
forest,  has  opened  a  clearing  in  the  midst  of  this  chaos  of 
vegetation,  which  grows  so  rapidly  in  this  warm  and 
humid  soil. 

The  crossing  is  made  from  ocean  to  ocean  in  two  hours 
and  a  half  We  are  running  alongside  of  a  pretty  little 
river.  Six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Arrived  at  Panama. 
.  Salvo  Atlantic!  Garrison  in  full  dress;  six  negroes  and 
one  mulatto  under  arms  formed  in  line  near  the  wharf. 
We  embark  in  great  confusion  on  a  boat  which  transports 
'  us  to  the  steamer,  which  is  two  or  three  miles  out  at 
sea.  The  city  of  Panama,  proper,  extends  for  some  dis- 
tance. The  houses  are  of  Spanish  architecture,  heavy, 
massive,  and  square,  which  the  laziness  of  the  inhabitants 
leave  to  fall  in  ruins.  An  American  resident  assures  me 
that  ten  houses  have  not  been  built  since  the  departure  of 
the  Spaniards.  Two  clock  towers  overlopk  the  city ;  it  is 
the  cathedral.  It  is  as  dilapidated  as  the  rest.  The  roof 
permits  the  rain  to  pass  through.  The  statues  of  the  saints 
in  the  interior,  of  painted  wood,  are  rotten  and  worm-eaten. 


ISLE  OF  PEARLS.  851 

The  doors  are  off  their  hinges,  and  hang  on  one  side  at  the 
entrance  of  the  church. 

An  adroit  prestidigitateur,  I  was  told,  found  the  means 
of  drawinff  four  or  five  hundred  dollars  last  week  from  this 
miserable  borough.  He  announced  two  representations  in 
the  following  style : — 

"  Homage  of  the  all-Powerful  Devil."    Mr. will  give 

two  representations  in  maaic^  the  product  of  which,  after 
deducting  all  expenses,  will  be  consecrated  to  repairing  the 
cathedral  roof,  and  making  new  doors.  The  hall  w^as  filled. 
The  receipts  were  eight  hundred  dollars,  of  which  the  devil 
(or  his  disciple)  took  one-half  under  pretext  of  expenses. 
Some  one  assured  me  that  wax-lights  are  wanting  for  the 
service  of  religion,  and  that  there  is  no  money  to  buy  them. 
Apathy,  laziness,  and  filth  everywhere;  nobody  is  willing 
to  work.  When  their  houses  (built  by  the  Spaniards  whom 
they  execrate,  and  to  whom  nevertheless  they  owe  the  little 
civilization  that  remains  to  them)  fall  into  ruins,  they  prop 
them  tip  with  planks  or  build  them  up  again  as  well  as  they 
can ;  they  stop  up  the  gaps  with  stones,  which  they  take 
from  the  wall  that  encircles  the  town,  and  which  to-day  is 
everywhere  tumbling  down  under  the  double  attack  of  time 
and  of  the  wretched  builders  who  have  made  a  quarry 
of  it. 

On  board  the  steamer  Constitution.  A  splendid  steamer, 
which  makes  a  still  greater  contrast  with  that  nut-shell — 
the  Ariel — ^which  we  nave  just  left.  The  heat  is  excessive, 
and  produces  a  malaise,  which  we  feel  doubly  from  the  ab- 
sence of  ice.  Here,  as  on  the  Ariel,  the  water  is  luke- 
warm. We  have  to  pay  twenty-five  cents  extra  for  a  few 
small  pieces  of  ice,  and  again  the  bar  has  to  be  closed,  like 
last  evening,  at  ten  o'clock. 

A  pearl  fishery  exists  on  a  small  island  (Isle  of  Pearls) 
one  mile  from  the  coast ;  few  are  now  found,  nevertheless 
lately  a  pearl  was  fished  up  which  was  sold  for  eight  thou- 
sand dollars  to  the  Prince  of  Wales.  The  fishery  has  be- 
come dangerous  on  account  of  the  number  and  daring  of 
the  sharks  which  are  found  swimming  close  in  to  shore. 

I  have  said  that  the  Constitution  is  the  finest  steamer 
that  I  have  yet  seen,  but  I  am  not  on  that  account  willing 


352  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

to  say  that  there  might  not  be  many  improvements  in  vari- 
ous things  which  concern  the  interior. 

April  14. 

I  have  not  slept  for  three  days.  I  am  not  in  California, 
and  I  have  already  a  foretaste  of  what  the  contests  are  A 
propos  of  *  squatters' '  rights  and  theories.  My  body  it  ap- 
pears was  in  the  possession  of  a  company  of '  squatters,'  who, 
when  I  wished  to  establish  myself,  were  in  full  activity,  and 
have  defended  inch  by  inch  their  ground,  and  have  chased 
me  away.  The  mosquitoes  of  Cuba,  and  of  the  swamps  of 
Louisiana,  are  certainly  disagreeable,  but  there  is  something 
bold  in  their  attack  and  even  in  their  defeat ;  there  is  some- 
thing in  their  little  trumpeting  which  commands  respect, 
seeming  to  say,  "Here  I  am,  defend  vourself ;"  but  these 
small  ol)scure  vampires — ^these  'B  flats — ^as  one  of  my  lady 
friends  musically  calls  them,  are  hateful  to  me,  because  they 
crawl  silently  out  of  their  dens  and  profit  by  the  darkness 
to  accomplish  on  their  sleeping  victims  their  sanguinary 
crimes. 

I  have  respectfully  suggested  that  perhaps  cleanliness 
might  arrive  at  a  satisfactory  result  against  the  invasions 
of  these  pioneers,  but  the  steward,  a  mulatto,  belongs  to  the 

?;enus  grandiloquent,  species  insolent,  and  I  draw  back  con- 
iised  for  having  disturbed  the  serenity  of  his  august  tem- 
perament. 

This  does  not  badly  resemble  the  hotel  at  St.  Louis,  which 
has  magnificent  corridors,  but  nothing  to  heat  them  with  in 
winter,  when  the  thermometer  points  to  the  cold  of  Siberia. 
Here  is  a  saloon  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  long,  and  splen- 
did in  every  way.  No  ice-water,  the  first  thing  necessary 
for  an  American.  Gildings  all  around,  but  bed-bugs  (B 
flats)  everywhere.  An  hour  and  a  half  at  table  to  eat  no- 
thing good ;  abundance  of  meat  and  vegetables,  all  badly 
cooked. 

The  dull  monotony  of  the  life  on  board  continues  to 
unfold  slowly  and  heavily  day  by  day  under  the  heat  of 
an  atmosphere  like  a  lead  foundry,  like  a  benumbed  boa 
slowly  unfolding  his  rings  to  the  perpendicular  rays  of  an 
African  sun.  The  sun  cooks  us,  roasts,  us,  melts  us,  and 
reddens  us;  in  the  shade  it  is  a  hot  air  bath,  in  the  sun  a 


THE  NEW  BRIDE.  358 

shrivelling.  For  fourteen  hours  in  the  day  we  are  panting, 
and  every  moment  frightened  at  seeing  our  sweat  stream- 
ing lest  we  should  be  turned  to  a  fountain.  The  night 
succeeds  the  sun  with  all  the  splendours  of  the  firmament 
and  the  phosphorescent  streamings  of  the  sea,  but  there  is 
no  breeze.  Whilst  we  are  gasping,  suffocating,  for  want 
of  air,  breathing  painfully  like  a  stranded  lish  on  the 
beach,  I  am  tempted  to  cry  out  as  at  the  Lindell  Hotel, 
"  For  mercy's  sake  less  display  and  more  comfort.  Fewer 
stars  and  a  little  more  breeze !  some  air !  some  air !  some 
air !  I  suftbcatfe ! !" 

Sunday^  April  16. 

The  Episcopal  service  is  read  by  the  purser — the  rule  on 
board  limits  its  duration  to  forty  minutes.  A  reverend  had 
offered  his  services,  but  the  forty  minutes'  clause  seemed 
like  an  attack  upon  his  dignity  and  he  retired. 

The  new  bride  appears  the  oftenest  possible  where  her 
husband  is  not,  in  which  the  gigantic  proportions  of  the 
steamer  wonderfully  assist  her.  There  would  be  much 
to  write  about  humanity  such  as  it  appears  on  board. 
Sympathies  and  antipathies,  attractions  and  repulsions 
have  time  to  manifest  themselves.  Passengers  find  their 
level  as  the  dull  calm  after  the  horrors  of  a  storm.  Our 
singers  (like  all  those  who  make  merchandise  of  music) 
are  already  quarrelling.  To  establish  harmony  among 
musicians  is  as  impossible  as  to  find  an  Irish  immigrant 
who  would  refuse  to  take  from  you  a  glass  of  whiskey,  or 
a  Western  man  who  would  ask  pardon  for  treading  on 
your  toes. 

Our  captain,  a  fine  old  fellow,  who  weighs  three  hundred 
pounds,  evidently  likes  his  dinner;  he  Keeps  us  an  hour 
and  a  half  at  table.  When  one,  in  a  small  company  of 
five  or  six  friends  around  a  well-served  table,  after  having 
dined  well,  stops  to  taste  the  dessert  and  undei:  the  influ- 
ence of  the  delicious  lethargy  which  accompanies  a  good 
digestion,  in  taking  a  glass  of  wine,  prolongs  the  time 
by  talking,  nothing  is  more  sensible;  but  after  having 
swallowed  with  a  grimace  some  few  spoonfuls  of  peppered 
hot  water,  after  having    courageously  wrestled  with  a 

30* 


354  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

piece  of  beef  hard  as  bone,  one  is  condemned  to  interludes 
of  twenty  minutes  between  each  course,  and  that  at  a  table 
laid  for  two  hundred  persons,  in  the  midst  of  a  deafening 
uproar,  with  an  atmosphere  ladened  with  the  combined 
vapours  of  two  hundred  plates  of  hot  water  and  beef 
leather,  it  is  more  than  any  one  should  require  from  the 
most  indulgent  voyager. 

I  have  fortunately  taken  the  habit  of  going  on  deck 
between  each  course.  I  have  for  this  purpose  a  large  book, 
a  geographical  dictionary,  which  from  its  shape  gives  me 
a  high  degree  of  respectability  among  many  persons  who 
think  that  it  is  a  Bible. 

They  are  serving  the  peppered  hot  water.  Five  minutes. 
I  go  up  on  deck  and  read  for  half  an  hour. 

beat's  leather.  Fifteen  minutes.  Three  times  that  for 
the  soup,  the  process  of  deglutition  by  mastication  being  at 
least  seventy-five  degrees  more  diflScult  than  that  by 
ingurgitation.  Half  an  hour  on  the  deck  to  read.  We 
now  then  have  disposed  of  an  hour,  fifteen  minutes  addi- 
tional made  to  it,  now  comes  the  curry  which  takes  a  half 
an  hour  to  serve,  etc.  etc. 

The  young  foreigner  (German)  having  continued  more 
and '  more  to  avoid  the  presence  of  her  husband  is,  acci- 
dentally it  appears,  often  found  in  the  company  of  another 
passenger.  The  husband,  who  has  some  notions  about  the 
honeymoon  which  his  young  wife  does  not  share  in,  is 
heard  this  evening  to  make  threats  of  a  revolver.  Shall 
we  have  a  drama  on  board! 

April  19. 

Acapulco  (Mexico)  is  in  sight.  After  having  doubled 
a  large  rock  the  city(?),  some  nuts  whose  roofs  are  covered 
with  palm  trees,  presents  itself  to  our  view.  Seated  at  the 
bottom  of  a  pretty  little  bay  on  the  edge  of  the  beach, 
it  runs  back  to  the  Sierra  (a  mountain)  covered  with 
forests  and  thick  vegetation.  We  must  take  in  coal  here. 
Scarcely  have  we  anchored  when  we  see  ourselves  sur- 
rounded by  a  crowd  of  canoes  made  from  the  trunks  of 
trees  hollowed  out  by  fire,  manned  by  Indians.  They  are 
clothed  in  white  linen  drawers ;  their  heads  are  covered 
with   broad -brimmed    straw  hats.      They  sell  bananas, 


THE  LITTLE  INDIAN  GIRL.  365 

oranges,  shell-work,  white  corals.  I  was  hoping  to  buy 
some  pearls,  but  the  bay  is  so  infested  by  sharks  (tintor- 
reras)  for  some  time  that  the  fishing  has  become  very 
difficult.  Last  week  I  am  told  they  carried  oS  eis^ht 
imprudent  fishermen.  On  land  the  beach  is  covered  with 
Indians,  some  squatting  before  piles  of  fruit,  offering  to  us 
their  merchandise  in  broken  English ;  others,  the  greater 
number,  pursue  us,  offering  us  necklaces  of  shells  and 
coloured  glass  and  little  pins  for  the  head,  of  shell  and 
glass-work.  A  little  Indian  girl  importunes  me,  she  is 
most  anxious  to  sell  me  some.  Expressive  and  singular 
style,  white  teeth,  olive  tint.  The  absence  of  clothes  (at 
least  they  are  very  scanty)  is  more  than  compensated  by 
the  abundance  of  her/  hair  and  the  largeness  of  her  eyes. 
She  ends  by  sticking  a  pin  in  my  collar,  which  she  abso- 
lutely wishes  to  make  a  present  of  "al  hermoso  cavallero." 
The  proceeding  was  too  gracious  for  the  'cavallero'  not 
to  respond  to  it.  I  gave  her  a  real.  Bad  luck  to  me.  In 
a  moment  I  was  surrounded  with  a  swarm  of  Indians, 
small,  large,  old,  and  young,  vociferating,  disputing  the 
possession  of  me,  who  pounced  down  on  me  like  vultures 
on  a  lamb,  load  me  with  pins  which  they  stick  in  me  every 
where.  The  ^^  hermoso  cavaUero^  looks  like  a  pin-cushion. 
"The  Yankees  please  me,  I  love  blondes,  I  have  made  a 
present  to  the  cavallero,  the  cavallero  in  return  will  make 
me  one."  The  only  way  I  have  to  get  out  of  the  hands 
of  nay  brown  sirens  is  to  give  to  them  a  handful  of  reals, 
and  I  see  them  rush  on  another  '  cavallero'  and  stick  him 
also  full  of  pins. 

The  houses  are  miserable  huts,  the  ground  plots  of  which 
are  covered  with  beaten  lime.  The  streets  are  not  paved, 
and  the  footway  for  the  foot  passengers,  two  feet  wide,  runs 
alongside  the  houses  from  four  to  nve  feet  above  the  level 
of  the  street. 

The  church,  to  all  appearance  most  miserable,  is  closed ; 
I  am  sorry  for  it  for  I  wish  to  see  it.  The  house  of  the 
*  Padre'  is  pointed  out  to  me.  He  sleeps,  his  domestic  tells 
me,  a  very  pretty  your\g  Indian  girl,  on  my  introducing  my- 
self. The  '  Padre,'  a  fat  fellow,  is  in  his  hammock.  He  re- 
ceives me  very  politely,  and  calls  the  sacristan  to  let  me  see 
the  church.    It  offers  nothing  remarkable  except  the  decay 


356  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

into  which  its  altars,  its  doors,  and  its  statues  are  fallen. 
Above  the  image  of  a  saint  there  is  a  paper  on  which  I 
read,  in  large  writing  and  in  imaginative  Spanish  orthogra- 
phy, "  Every  one  too  poor  to  buy  medicines  for  herself  will 
be  instantly  cured  if  she  makes  her  devotions  with  sufficient 
fervour  before  this  image." 

In  one  comer,  suspended  to  the  wall,  is  a  multitude  of 
ex-votos.     These  are  figures  of  wax  or  tin,  in  lead  or  gilt- 

})aper  (according  to  the  means  of  the  giver^,  representing 
egs,  eyes,  and  ears.  When  they  are  suffering  from  some 
disease  the  devotees  suspend  before  the  image  or  altar  of 
the  saint  of  their  preference,  a  fac-simile  of  the  sick  part, 
and  patiently  await  their  cure. 

Everywhere  the  image  of  idleness,  of  indifference,  of 
apathy,  of  ignorance,  and  of  filth.  In  every  house  we  per- 
ceive women  lying  in  their  hammocks,  or  men  indolently 
squatting  down  or  extended  in  the  shade.  Everywhere 
immobility.  Civilization  will  never  be  able  to  galvanize 
these  people  whose  soul  is  buried  under  the  triple  layer  of 
torpor,  idleness,  and  inertness. 

A  long  hut,  before  which  some  flint  guns  are  ranged  on 
a  rack,  represents  the  guard-house.  Ten  or  twelve  Indians, 
half-naked,  lying  on  their  face  around  a  pack  of  cards, 
are  playing.  A  sentinel,  lazily  leaning  on  his  gun,  follows 
the  play  eagerly  with  his  eyes. 

One  of  the  soldiers  asks  me  if  I  have  any  news  from 
"  los  Franceses."  "  Is  it  true  that  the  Emperor  is  obliged  to 
recall  his  troops  ?"  Is  the  Senor  an  Englishman?"  ''No," 
I  tell  him, "  I  am  a  Russian  officer."  "Ah !  the  Seiior,"  said  a 
sergeant  complacently  to  me,  "wished  to  see  great  fighting. 
Don  Diego  Alvarez^  (with  emphasis  as  one  would  speak  of 
the  great  Napoleon)  will  teach  the  French  manners.  He 
is  in  the  mountains,  his  son  commands  here  in  his  absence." 
(Then  with  all  the  swagger  of  his  race,  and  straightening 
nimself  up  into  a  theatrical  pose)  "  We  have  killed  more 
than  thirty  thousand  of  them  in  the  Sierra."  After  this 
speech  he  straightens  himself  like  a  bully  and  gazes  around 

1  Diego  Alvarez,  an  old  Indian,  is  for  the  Indian  Mexicans  of  the  Pacific 
what  Napoleon  was  for  the  Old  Guard.  He  is  their  god,  their  heau-ideal, 
their  idol.  This  old  general,  who  is  eighty  years  old,  governs  the  whole 
Mexican  side  of  the  Pacific,  and  boasts  that  he  has  never  been  conquered. 


BUT  ONE  NATION^HUMANITY.  357 

him  to  receive  the  tokens  of  admiration — due  to  native 
heroism. 

The  Louisiana  Hotel  is  a  house  of  less  miserable  appear- 
ance than  the  others.  The  landlord  is  a  fat  man  who  is  a 
Frenchman,  not  to  be  mistaken  if  one  mav  judge  by  this 
speech,  which  he  addressed  to  the  Indians  lymg  oefore  his 
doors. 

"  Sacre  tas  de  canaille  voulez  vous  bien  me  ficher  le 
Camp,"  and  for  a  peroration  he  administered,  right  and  left, 
some  blows  to  a  group  of  young  pin  merchants,  who  had 
again  discovered  me  and  hoped  to  recommence  their  opera- 
tions on  the  '  cavallero.' 

"  You  are  a  Frenchman,  sir,"  I  say  to  him. 

"  No,  sir  (with  emphasis),  I  am  from  New  Orleans." 

The  love  of  country  is  a  prejudice  I  will  admit,  I  even 
know  it. 

The  travellers'  life,  which  I  have  led,  has  singularly  en- 
larged the  circle  of  those  whom  I  regard  as  compatriots. 

From  seeing  men  under  every  form  in  all  latitudes  re- 
semble each  other,  though  changed  in  name,  I  have  little 
by  little  arrived  at  recognizing  tnat  there  is  really  but  one 
nation — ^humanity;  but  one  country — the  globe;  but  one 
code,  that  of  justice  and  morality.  Nevertheless,  the  memo- 
ries of  our  first  years,  our  first  affections,  live  at  the  bottom 
of  our  hearts,  and  this  old  tavern-keeper  saying  to  me  in 
this  obscure  hole  on  the  coast  of  the  Pacific,  "I  am  from 
New  Orleans,"  awakening  all  at  once  my  sleeping  memo- 
ries, in  a  moment  became  a  friend. 

"  I  also,"  I  said  to  him, "  am  from  New  Orleans."  An  ac- 
quaintance was  quickly  made.  He  recounted  to  me  all  his 
affairs,  his  life,  etc.  He  kept  a  restaurant  at  Lake  Pon- 
chartrain. 

"  Wliat  men  these  Creoles  are !  Another  thing  from  your 
Yankees !"  (Here  he  gave  way  to  his  hatred  for  the  Yan- 
kees.) 

The  poor  man  hated  the  North  without  being  acquainted 
with  it.  After  having  asked  me  the  news  about  many  of 
the  best  known  people  of  New  Orleans,  he  spoke  to  me  of 
Morphy,  the  chess-player. 

"  There  is  glory  for  Louisiana !  But  from  his  childhood 
he  showed  what  he  would  be  some  day.    He  is  not  like 


858  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

another  little  prodigy,  Gottschalk,  who  promised  marvel- 
lous things,  and  whose  father  sent  him  to  Europe  in  hopes 
of  making  a  great  musician  of  him.  Nobody  has  heard 
anything  more  said  about  him.  What  has  become  of  him?" 
I  confess  that  I  found  myself  a  little  embarrassed  in  an- 
swering this  question.  My  self-esteem  was  considerably 
hurt.  I  told  him  the  little  prodiff^  was  still  a  pianist,  and 
that  without  having  precisely  realized  the  expectations  of 
his  countrymen,  he  had  notwithstanding  continued  to  work 
at  music. 

"It  is  possible,  but  I  liave  never  heard  him  spoken  of," 
replied  the  old  man,  who  evidently  had  a  grudge  against 
the  infant  prodigy,  who  had  disappointed  the  hopes  of  his 
patriotic  love. 

We  have  an  excellent  dinner.  Some  birds,  whose  names 
I  forget,  as  fat  as  ortolans.  I  recommend  this  old  tavern- 
keeper  to  travellers.  At  table  we  are  waited  on  by  a  thin 
waiter  in  shirt  sleeves,  whose  body,  squeezed  at  the  waist 
by  a  leather  band,  is  surmounted  by  a  countenance  wrinkled 
into  folds,  set  off  by  long,  flat  locks  of  gray  hair.  The 
effect  of  this  mummy-like  countenance  on  a  body  eighteen 
years  old  is  impossible  to  describe.  "  Monsieur  is  from  New 
Orleans,"  said  this  disguised  old  man,  in  a  falsetto  voice  with 
a  French  lisp,  in  smartly  taking  away  from  me  my  plate,  "  a 
pretty  town  which  has  consoled  me  for  leaving  Paris.  Ah ! 
Paris,  sir,  my  youth,  my  well-formed  leg,  and  my  arm  so 
plump,  as  the  song  says.  K  it  was  not  for  my  husband  I 
should  never  work  for  these  Mexican  savages."  I  then  un- 
derstood that  this  young  sexagenarian  waiter  is  the  wife  of 
my  host,  who,  through  an  excess  of  caution,  more  preten- 
tious than  justifiable,  had  renounced  (these  Mexicans  are 
such  savages)  the  dress  of  her  sex. 

Whilst  we  are  dining,  Don  Juan  Alvarez,  the  son  of  the 
old  guerrilla,  and  the  actual  governor,  passes  with  his 
famify.  They  are  going  to  visit  our  steamer.  Don  Juan 
is  an  Indian  with  insignificant  features.  His  wife  and 
daughter  carry  umbrellas,  wear  silk  dresses,  gold  chains  and 
necklaces,  ear-rings,  brooches,  rings,  embroidered  shoes,  and 
crinolines.  They  walk  with  all  the  stifthess  of  Indians 
with  their  Sunday  clothes  on,  ridiculously  jumbled  to- 
gether ;  full  of  pride  in  parading  themselves  in  these  super- 


DEATH  OF  LINCOLN.  859 

annuated  fashions,  which  must  have  had  their  day  among 
the  hucksters  of  the  temple ;  they  attain  altogether  the 
height  of  the  grotesque  when  they  think  to  attain  the  sum- 
mit of  Parisian  elegance. 

Dull  as  Acapulco  is,  it  acts  as  an  agreeable  diversion  to 
the  monotony  of  the  ship,  and  it  is  not  without  regret  that 
we  slowly  return,  and  soon  the  huge  rock  behind  which  we 
are  disappearing  conceals  from  our  eyes  the  miserable  huts, 
the  church,  and  even  the  little  dismantled  Spanish  fort  which 
defends  (?)  Acapulco,  and  here  we  are  again  plunged  anew 
in  the  dull  routine  of  the  steamer. 

April  23. 

A  steamer  in  siffht!  It  is  the  Golden  City,  which  left 
San  Francisco  two  days  ago.  The  captain  comes  on  board, 
and,  in  the  midst  of  questions  from  all  the  passengers  that 
encumber  the  staircase,  hurls  these  words  like  thunderbolts, 
"  Richmond  is  taken,"  "Lee  has  surrendered,"  "Lincoln  has 
been  assassinated." 

The  news,  more  or  less  true,  which  has  been  transmitted 
to  us  since  the  commencement  of  the  war,  has  rendered  us 
incredulous.  Nothing  is  more  probable  than  that  Lee  has 
surrendered,  since,  on  the  morning  of  our  departure  from 
New  York,  the  news  of  the  taking  of  Petersburg  was  con- 
firmed, but  the  death  of  Lincoln!  Some  dispute  for  the 
papers ;  a  passenger  has  mounted  in  the  rigging,  and  has 
been  requested  to  read  with  a  loud  voice.  Alas  l  There  is 
no  longer  any  doubt  Lincoln  is  dead.  We  do  not  know 
the  details  of  the  horrible  outrage — ^the  name  only  of  the 
assassin  is  mentioned — Wilkes  Booth.  I  remember  of  hav- 
ing seen  him  play  a  year  ago  at  Cleveland.  I  was  struck 
at  that  time  with  the  beauty  of  his  features,  and  at  the 
same  time  by  a  sinister  expression  of  his  countenance.  I 
would  even  say  that  he  had  something  deadly  in  his  look. 
A  literary  lady  among  my  friends  who  knew  him  then, 
told  me  that  he  had  as  much  natural  talent  for  the  stage  as 
his  brother  Edwin,  but  that  his  violent  and  fantastic  char- 
acter would  not  permit  him  to  polish  the  natural  brutality 
of  his  manners  any  more  than  to  restrain  the  fury  of  his 
acting  within  the  ordained  limits  of  art. 

I  never  recollect  having  seen  a  more  affecting  sight  than 


360  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

that  presented  by  the  immense  deck  of  the  Constitution. 
The  sky  is  blue,  the  sun  resplendent,  the  sea  is  calm,  all 
nature  seems  to  smile  above  our  heads,  to  render  the  con- 
trast of  our  grief  more  striking  with  the  stillness  of  all 
that  surrounds  us.  Strange  and  inexplicable  thing!!  The 
women  are  those  who  show  the  least  regrets.  Around  me 
rude  figures  of  the  seamen  leave  the  badly  eifaced  traces  of 
their  tears  to  be  seen.  A  judge,  sitting  in  a  comer,  his 
head  in  his  hands,  weeps  as  if  he  had  just  lost  a  father.  All 
the  men  seem  crushed,  overwhelmed  under  the  weight  of 
an  incommensurable  grief.  The  women,  after  having  shed 
some  contagious  tears,  begin  to  make  common  conjectures 
about  the  motives  of  the  assassin,  and  the  means  employed 
by  him.  I  have  for  a  long  time  suspected  that  the  woman, 
who  weeps  so  easily  for  so  many  superficial  griefs,  possesses 
really  less  sensibility  than  man.  She  has  her  nervous  fits, 
her  paroxysms  of  enthusiasm  or  of  despair,  which  carries 
her  at  one  bound  to  the  heights  of  feeling,  but  does  not 
sustain  her  there.  These  are  irrational  impulses,  hysterical 
crises,  which  lose  in  depth  what  they  gain  in  surface. 

In  the  presence  of  a  great  sentiment  they  are  inferior, 
they  are  little,  and  man,  whose  sensibility  for  small  things 
is  dull  under  the  envelope  of  his  brutality,  takes  upon  him 
in  the  presence  of  an  immense  grief,  of  solemn  despair,  his 
supremacy,  and  becomes  again  the  master,  not  only  through 
the  force  of  muscle,  but  through  the  greatness  of  his  soul. 
Woman  has  more  frequently  the  poetry  of  words  than  of 
ideas. 

April  24,  morning. 

We  are  to  have  a  meeting  on  board  to  give  oflScial  ex- 
pression to  the  sentiments  of  grief  which,  with  merely  two 
or  three  exceptions,  are  felt  by  all  the  passengers.  I  have 
said  with  merely  one  or  two  exceptions,  because  a  lady, 
whose  opinions  are  Secessionist,  has  pushed  her  forgetful- 
ness  of  the  respect  due  to  humanity  so  far  as  to  qualify  the 
assassination  of  Lincoln  as  a  judgment  from  God ;  and  one 
or  two  other  female  parrots  (a  species  of  female  dolls,  who 
are  dying  for  sorrow  in  not  having  put  on  their  last  new 
dress),  who  are  exclaiming,  with  philosophic  profundity, 
"  that  Lincoln  must  have  died  sooner  or  later .'" 


RESOLUTIONS  ON  DEATH  OF  LINCOLN.  361 

Eyeniiig. 

The  meeting,  presided  over  by  Judge  Field  of  the 
Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,  have  voted  resolutions 
which  accord  with  our  feelings  of  fidelity  to  the  govern- 
ment, of  respect  for  the  memory  of  the  great  and  good 
Lincoln,  and  of  horror  for  the  execrable  act  which  has 
terminated  his  noble  and  laborious  career. 

Where  are  now  those  frivolous  judgments  on  the  man 
whom  we  are  weeping  for  to-day?  ^  His  ugliness,  his 
awkwardness,  his  jokes,  with  which  we  reproached  him: 
all  have  disappeared  in  presence  of  the  majesty  of  death. 
His  greatness,  his  honesty,  the  purity  of  that  great  heart, 
which  beats  no  longer,  rise  up  to-day,  and  in  their  resplen- 
dent radiancy  transfigure  him  whom  we  called  the  "com- 
mon rail-splitter."  0  Eternal  Power  of  the  true  and  beau- 
tiful !  Yesterday  his  detractors  were  ridiculing  his  large 
hands  without  gloves,  his  large  feet,  his  bluntness  ;  to-day 
this  type  which  we  found  grotesque  appears  to  us  on  the 
threshold  of  immortality,  and  we  understand  by  the  uni- 
versality of  our  grief  what  future  generations  will  see  in 
him. 

After  the  meeting,  the  Italian  singers  who  are  on  board 
sing  the  hymn  of  the  Republic,  which  I  accompany  on  the 
piano.  Miss  Adelaide  Phillips  sings  with  electric  feeling  the 
patriotic  song,  '  The  Star  Spangled  Banner.'  I  play  my 
piece, '  Union.'  The  enthusiasm  aroused  is  without  doubt 
less  owing  to  our  music  than  to  the  actual  circumstances. 

April  25. 

We  shall  arrive  to-day,  the  captain  says.  Unfortunately 
the  fog  has  come  up,  and  we  are  obliged  to  remain  quiet 
until  it  disappears.  The  coast  bristles  with  rocks,  and  it 
is  very  dangerous  to  approach  when  the  weather  is  not 
clear.  A  general  disappointment.  Have  you  taken  notice 
at  the  theatre  of  the  precipitation  with  which  every  one 
leaves  his  seat  to  go  as  soon  as  the  piece  draws  near  the 
end  ?  The  same  persons  who  for  two  nours  have  remained 
motionless  and  silent  in  their  seats  jostle  and  crowd  each 
other,  as  if  their  life  was  in  danger  if  they  were  accused  of 
being  in  the  hall  when  the  curtain  falls.  For  my  part,  I 
31 


362  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

have  often  observed,  without  understanding  it,  the  im- 
patience which  seizes  travellers  who  have  patiently  en- 
dured for  twenty-four  houre  railroad  travelling,  and  who 
before  the  train  has  had  time  to  stop  at  the  station,  push 
each  other,-  and  seem  to  try  who  shall  be  the  first  to  jump 
from  the  car,  at  the  risk  of  breaking  their  head  or  their 
limbs.  We  are  nearly  in  the  same  condition  on  board. 
After  having  patiently  endured  twenty-four  days  in  cross- 
ins^,  the  few  hours  which  we  are  forced  to  pass  motionless 
a  few  miles' from  pdrt  seem  insupportable  to  us. 

April  26. 

Very  thick  fog.  ISo  probability  of  even  arriving  to-day. 


CHAPTER  XXni. 

April  27,  morning. 

The  sky  is  blue  and  the  air  is  pure.  We  shall  be  at 
San  Francisco  to-day.  We  see  distinctly  the  mountains 
and  the  whole  coast.  The  steamer  slowly  advances.  The 
mountains  unfold  themselves  majestically  to  our  astonished 
sight.  We  are  entering  into  the  bay.  The  pen,  the  imagi- 
nation, are  powerless  to  portray  the  splendour  of  the  spec- 
tacle which  is  opened  to  our  eyes.  To  the  left  the  declivi- 
ties of  the  mountains  gradually  descend,  and  at  last  are 
lost  on  the  shore  enamelled  with  the  little  white  houses  of 
the  villages.  The  canons,  narrow  passages  where  the  light 
entering  takes  on  sombre  tints ;  the  swelling  of  the  hills, 
where  the  reflections  of  the  sun  on  the  patches  of  verdure 
are  mirrored  and  coloured  with  the  reflex  of  opals  and 
rubies,  and  the  immense  azure  vault  of  a  sky  like  Naples. 
On  the  right  the  '  Seal  Rock,'  frowning  sentinel  over  some 
arms  of  the  beach,  and  on  which  for  many  centuries  certain 
enormous  seals  have  established  their  quarters,  whose  shape- 
less bodies  we  distinguish  lazily  sleeping  or  crawling  like 
figantic  leeches  in  tlie  fissures  of  the  rock.  Planted  on  a 
igh  bluft*,  the  'C\\S  House'  overlooks  the  horizon.    From 


THE  ''GOLDEN  GATE:'  363 

a  balcony,  many  persons  with  long  spy-glasses  are  watching 
us  coming  in.  The  *  Cliff  House'  is  six  miles  from  San 
Francisco,  and  is  a  rendezvous  for  pedestrians,  equestrians, 
and  carriages.  They  go  there  to  eat  oysters,  and  to  see  the 
seals  at  a  few  yards  from  the  beach  carelessly  enjoy  them- 
selves without  being  frightened  at  the  approach  of  the 
curious,  their  security  never  having  been  troubled,  thanks 
to  a  local  ordinance  which  prohibits  any  harm  being  done 
to  them  under  penalty  of  a  fine. 

We  cannot  yet  see  San  Francisco,  the  city  being  built  at 
the  bottom  of  the  bay,  and  the  latter  making  an  elbow. 
Fort  Alcatraz*  lifts  from  the  middle  of  a  little  island  in 
the  bay  its  gray  walls.  It  incloses  all  the  political  prisoners 
compromised  during  the  war,  and  those  accused  of  burning 
the  steamer  Panama.  Two  or  three  hundred  American 
soldiers  constitute  the  garrison  of  this  desolate  and  sterile 
rock,  on  which  there  is  not  a  drop  of  water  and  not  a  blade 
of  grass.  We  are  still  going  ahead !  We  are  turning  a 
promontory  on  our  right,  and  the  port  of  San  Francisco 
opens  on  our  view. 

The  '  Golden  Gate,'  the  entrance  of  the  bay,  surpasses 
in  magnificence  the  most  beautiful  sights  I  ha\'e  ever  seen. 
Naples  and  Constantinople,  the  two  most  celebrated  bays, 
do  not  present  to  the  eye  a  more  imposing,  more  dazzling 
spectacle,  than  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco,  but  the  city  itself 
does  not  answer  from  the  port  to  the  idea  which  one  has 
formed  of  it.  We  see  only  sand-hills  with  scattered  houses 
of  mean  appearance.  The  port  is  animated,  a  forest  of 
masts  and  of  flags.  Clouds  of  smoke  which  are  escaping 
from  the  ferry-boats,  with  which  the  bay  is  covered,  and  which 
are  ploughing  their  way,  in  every  sense,  give  life  to  the 
picture.  The  wharf  is  covered  with  an  eager  crowd.  We 
are  approaching  slowly.  Confusion  reigns  everywhere, 
particularly  on  board.  The  young  female  foreigner  profits 
by  the  absence  of  her  husband,  engaged  in  hunting  fer  his 
trunks,  to  go  on  deck  to  make  a  passenger  explain  the  beau- 
ties of  the  landscape  to  her."    Tne  porters  have  already  in- 

*  The  name  of  Alcatraz — in  Spanish,  sea-bird— comes  undoubtedly 
from  the  immense  number  of  these  birds  which  inhabit  it,  and  whose 
eggs,  a  few  years  ago,  when  fowls  were  scarce  in  California,  furnished  a 
considerable  branch  of  commerce. 


364  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

vaded  us  and  seized  upon  our  trunks.  The  captain  on  the 
paddle-box  is  giving  his  orders.  In  proportion  as  we  ap- 
proach shore  we  distinguish  the  crowd  which  is  going 
toward  our  landing  place.  Friends  are  recognizing  each 
other.  "Hello,  here  is  Jack!  how  do  you  do?"  etc.  etc. 
Everybody  speaks  at  once.  The  horses  in  the  wagons  get 
frightened  and  kick  up  their  heels.  The  engine  roars ;  the 
drivers  cry  out.  Conversations  are  taking  place  between 
those  on  the  shore  and  those  on  board.  Handkerchiefs 
are  in  requisition.  The  women  are  crying  for  joy,  and  the 
fathers  blow  their  noses  energetically.  All  the  passengers 
regard  each  other  as  if  they  were  united  in  the  closest 
friendship.  The  judge  himself  has  a  less  disagreeable  air ! 
the  young  foreigner  is  in  the  arms  of  her  husband,  and  she 
does  not  appear  to  find  her  companion  very  disagreeable. 

There  is  a  great  commotion,  "a  man  overboard!"  he  has 
fallen  between  the  wharf  and  the  vessel,  and  has  disappeared. 
Anxiety  of  the  crowd.  They  fish  him  out.  He  is  a 
wagoner ;  he  has  escaped  safely  with  only  a  cold  bath. 

Some  exchange  news,  others  recognize  each  other.  "  How 
are  you  at  home?"  Home,  that  magic  word  which  makes 
the  heart  of  the  most  doubting  beat.  Laugh  at  it  if  you 
will !  Call  it  a  weak  prejudice !  Leave  your  home ; 
travel,  throw  yourself  into  the  whirlpool  of  the  world; 
squander,  by  throwing  to  the  four  winds,  the  illusions  of 
vour  heart,  its  tendernesses,  its  raptures,  until  exhausted 
by  the  abuse  or  bruises  of  life  it  dries  up  and,  insensible, 
henceforth  is  associated  with  your  being,  only  by  the  mate- 
rial functions  it  is  called  upon  to  fill  in  me  animal  economy. 
Do  you  say  it  is  dead?  Love,  ambition,  devotion,  the 
follies  of  youth,  lost  illusions !  dead,  do  you  say  ?  Reason 
has  taken  its  place.  Return  again  to  your  home,  there 
where  your  first  loves  blossomed,  where  your  earliest  dreams 
were  realized.  Behold  once  more  the  place  where  you 
first  lisped  in  life,  spelled  love ;  and  this  atrophied  heart, 
which  you  thought  was  dead,  will  awaken  as  from  a  long 
lethargy  to  salute,  with  all  the  ardour  of  its  first  emotions, 
as  the  nightingale  sings  in  the  morning  the  aurora  of  spring, 
the  memory  of  this  aurora  of  life — "  Blessed  home !" 

For  myself  this  spectacle  saddens  me.  No  one  awaits 
me,  and  those  I  love  I  have  left  very  far  behind  me.    The 


CROWDS  HA VE  ONL Y  INSTINCT.  865 

t 

Reverend  Mr.  Thomas,  one  of  the  passengers,  is  standing 
alongside  of  me.  "  Is  Gottschalk  on  boaru  ?"  cries  a  voice 
from  the  crowd.  "  Here  he  is,"  replies  the  Eeverend  Mr. 
Thomas,  pointing  me  out  to  the  crowd.  I  submit  to  this 
exhibition  with  regret.  My  looks,  considerably  deterio- 
rated by  sea-sickness,  present  the  most  wretched  appearance, 
and  ofter  nothing  but  what  is  disappointing  to  those  who 
always  associate  the  idea  of  a  celebrity  of  any  kind  with  a 
certain  physical  majesty.  Of  over  one  hundred  persons  who 
know  my  name  without  ever  having  seen  me,  I  have  in- 
variably read  from  their  looks  that  they  were  quite  disap- 
pointed in  finding  me  thin  and  of  ordinary  height.  The 
frankest  contented  themselves  by  saying,  "  Ah !  I  thought 
that  you  were  taller,"  The  ancients  wno,  without  under- 
standing anatomy,  made  such  irreproachable  statues, 
obeyed  instinctively  a  natural  law  when  they  gave  so  little 
expression  to  their  physiognomy.  Form  always  seduces  the 
masses,  and  the  people  in  their  youth  become  enraptured 
with  the  form  to  the  exclusion  of  the  mind. 

The  elegant  Alcibiades  was  evidently  more  sympathetic 
than  the  flat-nosed  Socrates,  and  the  advocates  of  Phryne, 
who  took  from  off  her  her  tunic,  to  cause  her  to  be  acquitted 
(eloquent  peroration  which  carried  with  it  the  austere 
judges  of  the  areopagus),  were  decidedly  profound  philoso- 
phers. Sappho  must  have  been  pretty.  Crowds  have  only 
instinct ;  reason  is  awakened  only  by  reflection,  and  the 
crowd  never  reflects.  It  was  less  by  genius  that  Peter  the 
Great  controlled  the  rude  Muscovites  than  by  his  terrible 
fits  of  passion,  seconded  by  herculean  strength  and  a  gigan- 
tic height;  If  on  the  twenty-fourth  February,  1848,  King 
Louis  Philippe  had  mounted  a  horse  and  had  shown  his  fine 
white  head  to  the  Parisian  insurgents,  the  dead  republic, 
bom  of  Lamartine  and  Ledru  Rollin,  would  have  aborted. 
If,  afterwards,  when  Louis  Napoleon  had  been  elected  on 
account  of  his  name  (it  is  not  necessary  to  seek  for  any  other 
reason  for  his  elevation,  since  he  was  unknown  to  France, 
except  by  two  attempts  which  were  looked  upon  as  foolish 
and  absurd,  because  they  did  not  succeed),  he  had  presented 
himself  to  the  Parisians  on  foot  at  the  first  review  of  the 
troops  which  took  place  on  the  tenth  of  February,  1850, 
the  Napoleonic  dynasty  would  have  been  extinguished. 

31* 


366  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

His  body,  too  large  for  his  slim  little  legs,  his  feet 
turned  out,  his  awkward  gait,  his  retreating  forehead,  and 
large  nose,  would  hardly  nave  found  favour  with  the  im- 
pulsive, enthusiastic,  and  unreflecting  French  people.  It 
would  have  seemed  to  them  a  sacrilege  to  associate  this 
horse-like  head  with  the  profile,  like  an  antique  medal,  of 
the  great  Emperor.  Thiis  the  President  showed  himself  on 
horseback,  and  on  the  most  mettlesome  horse  of  his  stables. 
He  is  one  of  the  best  and  most  graceful  riders  in  Europe. 
His  fantastic  uniform,  in  which  gold  played  a  very  import- 
ant part,  concealed  the  heirfit  of  his  figure.  The  troops 
were  ranged  on  the  Champs  I^lysees  as  far  as  the  Column  of 
July,  that  is  to  say  in  a  direction  of  three  or  four  miles 
along  the  boulevards.  The  drums  were  beating  the 
march,  the  bands  were  playing.  "  The  Prince  is  coming," 
said  the  crowd,  and  all  were  awaiting  impatiently,  when 
all  at  once  the  Prince  debouched  at  the  head  of  a  staff 
glittering  with  gold  and  plumes.  His  horse,  excited  by  the 
crowd  and  the  music,  rendered  furious  by  the  spur  which 
his  rider  did  not  spare  on  him,  advanced,  rearing  and  mak- 
ing immense  bounds.  The  Prince,  calm  and  smiling,  held 
the  reins  with  a  firm  hand,  and  with  his  right  took  off 
his  hat  before  the  colours  which  were  lowered  at  his  pas- 
sage. He  passed  like  a  water-spout,  and  the  crowd,  wonder- 
ing at  his  grace  and  his  audacity,  burst  into  acclamations. 
It  is  thus  his  popularity  began.  A  name  which  sounded 
to  the  ears  of  the  French  Ukc  an  echo  of  one  of  their  old 
glories,  and  great  experience  in  the  art  of  horsemanship; 
this  is  what  his  great  reign  is  founded  upon.  It  is  true 
that  his  great  genius  (good  or  bad,  I  do  not  charge  myself 
with  appreciating  it)  has  since  been  obliged  to  give  a  rea- 
son to  thqse  who  applauded  without  knowing  him. 

A  few  grasps  of  our  travelling  companions'  hands,  and 
the  promise  (made  in  good  faith,  but  after  some  hours  upon 
land  effaced  from  our  memory)  to  see  each  other  often,  and 
we  go  on  shore.  Mr.  Badger,  Chickering's  agent,  was 
awaiting  us,  and  with  the  kindest  zeal  placed  himself 
entirely  at  our  disposal.  Our  apartments  are  reserved  for  us 
at  the 'Cosmopolitan  Hotel.'  We  are  gaining  knowledge 
(and  I  confess  that  I  have  a  great  deal  of  repugnance  for  it), 
with  the  only  scourge  of  San  Francisco — the  dust.     Built 


COSMOPOLITAN  HOTEL.  367 

upon  sandy  ground,  and  hills  exposed  to  the  wind,  which 
blows  every  day  at  noon  for  six  hours,  the  city  is  envel- 
oped in  clouds  of  dust,  which  rise  in  double  columns  of  a 
grayish  colour  above  the  city,  and,  at  a  distance,  recall  the 
smoke  which  covers  like  a  dais  the  great  English  metropolis. 
The  journey  from  the  wharf  to  the  hotel  is  made  slowly — 
the  horses  pull  with  difficulty,  and  the  wheels  of  our  car- 
riage sink  SIX  inches  deep  into  the  sandy  dust.  This  thick 
and  impalpable  dust,  which  is  dried  by  the  sun  during  eight 
months  of  absolute  drought,  penetrates  into  the  eyes,  the 
ears,  and  the  mouth. 

The  '  Cosmopolitan  Hotel'  is  a  magnificent  square  edifice 
of  cut  stone,  the  luxury  of  whose  furniture  is  equal  to  that 
of  the  first  hotels  in  the  United  States.  A  splendid  restau- 
rant and  a  magnificent  billiard-room  are  connected  with  it. 
The  dining-room  is  ornamented  with  a  profusion  of  mirrors, 
which  reflect  the  gilded  ceilings,  and  the  lighted  candelabra 

ijive  to  it  the  appearance  of  a  European  palace.  The 
adies'  parlour  contains  a  Chickering  piano,  which,  con- 
trary to  hotel  pianos,  is  excellent,  and  in  good  tune.  In  a 
portfolio  of  music,  which  I  found  on  the  piano,  I  perceived 
the  'Maiden's  Prayer,'  et  tu  quoque^  0  California  ! 

The  interior  service  of  the  hotel  is  admirably  performed. 
The  waiters,  in  black  dresses  and  white  cravats,  are  polite 
(they  are  for  the  most  part  French),  and  neat  (the  proprie- 
tors of  hotels  in  Western  cities,  B and  S ,  are  re- 
quested to  meditate  on  this  paragraph),  and  exercise  kind- 
ness in  taking  your  orders  without  making  you  feel  the 
inferiority  of  your  position.  The  bill  of  fare  would  have 
made  Bnllat  Savann  and  CarSme  faint  for  joy.  Vegetables 
in  the  greatest  variety,  fruits  of  all  zones,  tropical  and  tem- 
perate, and  the  most  artistic  dishes  appear  in  the  numerous 
nomenclature.  Bat  I  am  not  easily  taken  by  the  allure- 
ments of  these  deceptive  baits,  which  the  hotels  of  the  West 
have  taught  me  to  distrust.  They  are  generally  supernu- 
meraries like  those  mute  choristers  which  directors  add  to 
their  not  too  numerous  choruses,  who,  opening  their  mouths 
without  singing,  do  very  well  as  a  coup  (Toeil^  but  have  no- 
thing to  do  with  the  music — these  artistic  dishes  have  no 
other  purpose  but  to  increase  the  bill  of  fare.  If,  some- 
times, an  inexperienced  traveller  falls  in  the  snare,  he  either 


368  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST, 

receives  this  answer  from  the  waiter,  "  There  is  no  more  of 
it,"  and  he  thus  preserves  one  illusion  more ;  or  else  the 
phoenix  asked  for  is  served  up  to  him,  and  then  he  swears, 
but  a  little  too  late,  that  he  will  never  ask  for  it  asain. 

This  would  be  the  time  to  make  a  philosophical  digres- 
sion on  the  art  of  cooking,  which  is  more  closely  connected 
than  is  thought  with  intellectual  civilization.  One  of  the 
aphorisms  of  Brillat  Savarin  was  (who  many  think  was  a 
celebrated  cook,  but  who  was  only  a  very  honourable  judge, 
whose  epicurianism  and  delicate  wit  prompted  to  write  a 
charming  book)  "  it  is  the  beast  that  feeds,  but  it  is  man 
only  who  knows  how  to  eat." 

In  the  United  States,  cookery,  like  music,  painting,  and 
many  other  branches  of  a  high  civilization,  has  hardly  yet 
been  called  into  being.  I  will  relate  to  you  a  little  story 
which  will  lead  me  by  a  by-path  to  the  expression  of  my 
whole  opinion  upon  our  national  cookery  and  our  arts. 

At  the  time  of  the  first  outbreak  of  Asiatic  cholera,  I 
was  then — I  was  just  about  telling  you  my  age ;  since  the 
cholera  made  its  first  appearance  in  1832,  by  a  trifling 
addition  you  would  have  discovered  how  many  spring 
times  I  reckon.  My  father,  to  avoid  the  scourge,  built  a 
small  cottage  on  the  border  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  in  a 
secluded  spot  called  Pass  Christian.  Our  only  neighbours 
were  a  few  Indians,  the  only  remains  of  a  tribe  formerly 
massacred  by  the  Spaniards,  and  whose  bones  were  covered 
by  a  small  mound  in  the  clearings  of  the  wood  behind  our 
little  mansion. 

We  had  a  piano,  and  it  was  there,  alone,  that  I  began 
my  attempts  upon  the  instrument  which,  at  a  later  period, 
was  to  attract  to  me  so  many  admirers  and  detractors,  to 

give  me  so  many  joys,  and  to  render  Mr.  D of  Boston 

so  miserable. 

One  evening  when  I  was  playing  'Hail  Columbia'  a 
large  Indian  stopped  at  the  door  and  watched  inquisitively 
my  hands  running  over  the  keyboard.  My  father  (al- 
though a  man  of  great  intelligence,  he  was  not  without  that 
weakness  in  which  all  fathers  participate,  who  think  their 
children  phoenixes)  said  to  the  Indian,  "You  see  what  this 
little  pale-face  can  do."  The  vanity  of  the  savage  was  so 
much  the  more  wounded  as  he  could  not  deny  that  the 


THE  INDIAN  OF  PASS  CHRISTIAN  869 

child  did  what  neither  he  nor  his  had  ever  done.  He  came 
in  and  attentively  examined  the  box  from  whence  the 
strange  sounds  proceeded.  Tea  was  ready.  We  passed 
into  the  next  room  without  thinking  of  the  Indian.  I 
alone  secretly  observed  him.  His  great  size  and  hoarse 
voice  inspired  me  with  childish  fear.  I  saw  him,  after 
satisfying  himself  that  he  was  not  observed,  slowly  ap- 
proach the  piano;  he  looked  attentively  at  the  keyboard, 
then  carelessly,  and  as  if  by  accident,  he  let  his  hand  fall 
upon  a  key  which  returned  a  sound. .  Scarcely  had  he 
heard  it,  when  his  countenance,  which  had  remained 
morose,  brightened,  he  sat  down  at  the  piano,  and  with  all 
the  force  of  his  arms  he  began  to  beat  the  keys,  calling 
out  triumphantlv  to  my  father,  "You  see,  I  never  tried 
before,  and  I  make  more  noise  than  he." 

Do  you  understand  my   comparison?     "No!"     Very 

well,  then.     Go  to   B ,  and  when  you  shall  be  told 

what  some  one  told   me — "  Mrs. is  the  best  singer 

here,  because  you  can  hear  her  a  mile  oif" — ^recall  to 
yourself  the  Indian  of  Pass  Christian.  "This  gallery  of 
paintings  is  the  largest  which  we  have  in  America."  The 
Indian  of  Pass  Christian.  "Mr.  Such-an-one  is  an  excellent 
judge  of  music;  he  has  spent  six  months  in  Europe." 
Again,  my  Indian.  "Our  hotel  is  as  good  as  the  'Fifth 
Avenue'  or  the '  Continental ;'  look  at  the  number  of  dishes 
on  the  hill  of  fare."     The  Indian,  always  the  Indian. 

To  sing  you  require  lungs,  but  it  also  requires  other 
things;  an  ox  can  be  heard  a  mile  oiF.  A  gallery  of 
paintings,  if  it  possessed  two  hundred  million  daubs,  would 
not  be  worth  one  miniature  of  Isabey,  or  one  of  Meisson- 
nier's  interiors.  Mr.  Such-an-one,  instead  of  six  months, 
might  have  remained  six  years  in  Europe,  and  come  back 
as  big  a  blockhead  as  before.  Your  hotel  might  have  as 
many  dishes  on  its  bill  of  fare  as  the  Queen  of  Spain  has 
names  (I  think  she  has  one  hundred  and  thirty -two) ;  if  they 
are  bad  your  cooking  makes  it  like  a  cheap  eating-house. 

But  the  food  of  the  Cosmopolitan  Hotel  is  excellent,  or 
at  least  the  dishes  here  are  eatable.  The  town,  when  you  are 
in  the  middle  of  Montgomery  Street  (the  principal  Street 
in  San  Francisco),  looks  like  the  beautiful  portions  of 
Chicago ;  the  stores  are  large  and  luxurious.     ]?uilt  upon 


370  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

a  number  of  steep  hills,  the  streets  rise  and  descend ;  they 
have  levelled  many  of  them,  but  much  remains  to  be  done. 
I  have  seen  one  spot  where  the  ground  is  so  steep  that  you 
have  to  go  up  by  steps,  the  roof  of  the  lower  house  coming 
to  the  level  of  the  steps  of  the  one  which  precedes  it, 
and  so  with  those  following.  The  levelling  for  the  most 
part  being  done  after  the  houses  are  built,  they  have 
enlarged  them  at  the  bottom.  They  prop  them  up  and 
build  lower  stories  to  them,  so  that  what  was  once  the 
ground  floor  becomes  the  garret. 

It  is  impossible  on  seeing  San  Francisco  to  imagine  that 
the  date  of  its  foundation  goes  no  further  back  than 
twenty  years  ago,  and  that  it  has  been  burned  down  two 
or  three  times.  I  have  been  shown  the  place  where  the 
beach  was.  It  is  now  nearly  a  mile  from  it.  They  have 
gained  this  land  from  the  sea  by  throwing  into  it  the 
sand  carried  from  the  hills  whilst  they  were  levelling. 
San  Francisco  numbers  three  theatres,  two  large  concert 
halls,  several  small  ones,  and  an  infinite  number  of  saloons  for 
melodeons  and  a  Chinese  theatre.  Maguire's  Opera  House 
is  generally  occupied  by  a  dramatic  company.  Maguire's 
Academy  of  Music  is  a  charming  hall,  which  holds  from 
fifteen  to  eighteen  hundred  persons  easily,  and  in  which 
the  Italian  opera  under  the  direction  of  Maguire  is  now 
performing  here.  The  Metropolitan  Theatre  is  a  little 
larger  than  the  Academy  of  Music,  but  less  elegant  in  its 
interior  decorations.  Bianqui's  Italian  Company  is  playing 
there  in  opposition  to  that  of  Maguire's.  The  name  of 
Maguire  is  constantly  found  throughout  all  California.  The 
one  that  bears  it  was,  some  say,  a  sporting  character,  a 
boxer.  He  has  made  a  fortune,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
has  built  almost  all  the  theatres  of  the  interior  and  of  San 
Francisco.  He  is  very  intelligent,  very  enterprising,  and 
provides  by  himself  alone  for  almost  all  the  amusements 
of  the  northern  cities  of  the  Pacific.  I  have  found  him 
very  kind  and  very  just  in  his  transactions.  There  is, 
besides,  at  this  moment  at  San  Francisco  a  circus  company 
to  which  Zoyara  the  hermaphrodite  belongs.  I  remember 
the  excitement  produced  by  the'Hermoso  Senorita  Zoyara' 
at  Havana,  when  every  young  person  was  foolishly  in- 
terested in  the  solution  of  the  mystery  concerning  her  sex. 


MARKETS  OF  SAN  FRANCISCO.  371 

I  am  told  that  Mile.  Zoyara  is  married,  and  that  she  is  the 
best  husband  in  the  world  and  the  most  excellent  of 
fathers.    I  suppose  from  this  that  the  problem  is  solved. 

The  cafes  and  billiard-saloons  of  San  Francisco  are  mag- 
nificent, handsomer  even  than  those  of  New  York.  The 
'  Bank  Exchange'  ia  the  most  aristocratic  of  the  latter,  and 
at  its  bar  the  great  merchants  every  day  find  an  exquisite 
collation.  Champagne  is  constantly  drunk  here  throughout 
the  whole  day.  It  is  the  base  of  all  the  drinks,  such  as 
lemonade,  cocktails,  smashes,  cobblers.  As  to  the  Cali- 
fornia wine,  I  have  as  yet  only  seen  one  bottle  of  it,  and  I 
do  not  believe  that  a  glass  a  day  is  drunk  of  it  in  all  the 
cafes  of  San  Francisco.  I  made  this  remark  to  a  Califor- 
nian,  who  laughingly  answered  me :  "  We  leave  the  care 
of  it  to  you  Eastern  people."  I  know  too  little  of  liquors 
to  decide  whether  he  wished  to  say  something  not  at  all 
flattering  to  our  taste  in  matters  of  wine. 

The  markets  of  San  Francisco  are  worthy  of  being  seen. 
They  are  floored,  and  of  scrupulous  neatness.  This  country 
has  all  the  best  things  of  the  world  in  profusion.  Fruits 
and  vegetables  of  every  zone  and  every  climate  abound 
here.  Salmon  (I  have  seen  some  which  were  two  feet  in 
circumference)  cost  two  bits  (twenty-five  cents)  a  pound. 
They  are  so  plentiful,  that  there  is  a  story,  true  or  false, 
which  says  that  the  Irish  servants  stipulate  that  it  shall 
not  be  given  them  to  eat  more  than  twice  a  week.  Straw- 
berries ripen  the  whole  year.  The  apples  of  Oregoi;i  are 
excellent.  The  oranges  of  Lower  California  are  in  abund- 
ance. The  olives  are  as  large  and  good  as  those  of  Anda- 
lusia, and  will  become,  when  the  mining  fever  abates  and 
industry  develops  the  resources  of  the  country,  an  important 
branch  of  industrial  production.  Almonds,  cherries  (and 
what  cherries !),  peaches,  grapes,  apricots,  artichokes,  cauli- 
flowers, beets  (the  poorest  are  three  times  larger  than  those 
of  the  East,  and  I  have  seen  some  that  weighed  twenty- 
five  pounds) ;  in  one  word,  all  the  richness  of  the  vegetable 
kingdom  has  been  accumulated  here  by  Providence  on  this 
land  of  promise,  whose  climate,  a  perpetual  temperature  of 
spring,  would  be  the  finest  in  the  world,  were  it  not  for  the 
cursed  wind  which  comes  up  every  day  from  noon  until 
six  o'clock  and  whirls  the  sandy  dust  in  every  direction. 


372  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

The  scarcity  of  trees  in  and  around  San  Trancisco  might 
be  easily  explained  by  the  action  of  this  wind,  which  cuts 
down  vegetation  and  scarcely  suffers  low  plants  and  bushes 
to  grow. 

The  mines  of  copper,  silver,  gold,  and  mercury  seem 
inexhaustible!  New  ones  are  discovered  every  day.  Very 
fine  opals  are  found  in  Calaveras  County.  The  water  of 
the  sea  near  to  the  coast  presents  large  oleaginous  spots, 
which  seem  to  indicate  that  there  must  be  depots  of  oil  in 
the  interior  of  the  hills.  Some  have  commenced,  it  is  said, 
to  dig  wells  in  many  places,  and  the  oil  fever  promises  to 
make  as  many  victims  as  its  elder  sister  the  gold  fever. 
"Victims !"  some  may  say  to  me.  "How?  If  the  mines 
are  so  rich,  can  they  make  victims  ?"  I  will  say  nothing 
myself,  but  I  will  answer  what  a  Californian  told  me  to 
whom  I  addressed  the  same  question.  "  The  expenses  of 
digging  are  enormous ;  roads  are  diflScult  to  cut  in  the 
mountains ;  water  is  hard  to  procure  to  wash  the  gold,  one 
is  obliged  to  go  sometimes  five  or  six  miles  to  find  it,  and 
bring  it  by  means  of  aqueducts.  Besides,  the  diggings 
frequently  cave  in,  and  require  the  employment  of  enormous 
timbers,  which  are  very  costly ;  workhands  are  dear ;  be- 
sides, finally  (it  is  not  I  who  speaks),  the  chapter  of  never- 
ending  robberies.  There  are,  perhaps,  three  thousand 
mines  in  California,  and  there  are  hardly  one-half  dozen 
that  regularly  make  dividends,  and,  nevertheless,  all  are 
rich  and  productive." 

The  natural  riches  of  California  are  marvellous,  but  it 
lacks  capital.  The  rate  of  interest,  which  is  one  and  a  half 
per  cent,  a  month  on  a  first  mortgage  with  good  signatures, 
cannot  otherwise  be  explained.  Money  rates  as  high  as 
two  to  three  per  cent,  a  month.  Capital  fails,  notwith- 
standing the  immense  resources  which  the  country  presents ; 
it  is  the  oil  which  would  lubricate  and  put  in  motion  all 
the  wheels  of  the  great  machine. 

There  are,  besides  the  '  Cosmopolitan'  (which  I  consider 
the  best),  three  other  very  good  hotels.  The  extraordinary 
development  of  the  city  within  the  last  ten  years  has  natu- 
rally caused  a  great  increase  in  the  value  of  land.  Chicago 
some  years  ago  seemed  to  have  attained  during  the  specu- 
lative fever  in  land  the  maximum ;  but  nothing  approach- 


CONCERTS  AT  SAN  FRANCISCO.  373 

ing  to  the  following  figures :  Admiral  Dupont  gained  last 
year  a  lawsuit  by  which  were  accorded  to  him  thirty-five 
thousand  dollars  for  a  piece  of  ground  for  which  he  had  paid 
fifteen  dollars.  Mr.  Lick  purchased  for  fifty  dollars,  from 
a  man  who  had  paid  five  dollars  for  it,  the  ground  on 
which  he  built  the  '  Lick  House.'  This  ground  is  to-day 
worth,  without  the  hotel,  five  hundred  thousand  dollars. 

Messrs.  Badger  and  Linderberger,  wholesale  ready-made 
clothing  merchants,  whose  large  store  is  situated  in  the 
business  street  of  San  Francisco,  have  in  the  first  story  a 
depot  for  Chickering's  pianos,  of  which  they  sell  a  great 
number.  Is  it  an  indication  that  music  is  much  cultivated  ? 
I  would  not  dare  to  assert  it.  Music,  of  all  the  arts,  is  the 
last  to  implant  itself,  and  only  takes  deep  root  in  old  civilized 
societies.  It  is  too  abstract,  it  appertains  too  much  to  the 
domain  of  thought  and  feeling  to  nourish,  where  the  physi- 
cal forces  are  in  full  activity.  It  is  an  art  for  idlers  and 
dreamers.  ^Neither  the  one  nor  the  other  is  found  among 
men  who  have  to  build  houses  to  shelter  themselves,  and 
who  have  to  seek  their  food.  The  plastic  arts  are  the  first, 
after  spoken  poetry,  which  suggest  themselves  to  the  minds 
of  primitive  peoples. 

Concerts  at  San  Francisco  have  never  succeeded.  Ole 
Bull  and  Strakosch  left  it  in  confusion.  Paul  Julien,  who 
has  just  passed  five  months  here,  has  not  carried  otf  one 
thousand  dollars  net.  On  the  other  side,  I  regret  to  say  it, 
the  circus  flourishes,  and  Miss  Adah  Menken,  after  having 
driven  all  the  people  crazy,  has  carried  away  with  her  fifty 
thousand  dollars.  You  will  easily  understand  that  the 
chaste  muse,  sister  of  Apollo,  can  only  go  astray  before  a 
public  which  is  enthusiastic  at  the  nudities  of  Mazeppa. 

There  are  numerous  Chinese  here.  It  is  supposed  that 
there  are  more  than  seventy  thousand  in  California,  and  at 
least  five  thousand  in  San  Francisco.  The  great  majority  of 
them  are  laundrymen,  Stockton  Street  is  lined  with  Chi- 
nese shops ;  they  sell  drugs,  seeds,  make  shoes,  etc.  Some 
of  them  are  very  rich,  very  intelligent,  and  speak  English 
readily.  I  was  introduced  to  SamKee,  a  druggist  I  think, 
who,  seated  behind  his  desk,  was  writing  his  letters — ^a  ship 
leaves  for  China  to-morrow. 

The  neatness  with  which  he  wrote  from  riffht  to  left  his 
82  ^ 


374  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

correspondence  would  make  the  best  book-keeper  pale  with 
envy.  My  guide,  doubtless  to  give  him  a  high  idea  of  the 
visitor  which  he  introduced  to  him,  repeated  to  him  fre- 
quently, "  Mr.  Gottschalk,  the  great,  great  pianist,"  but 
perceiving  that  the  Celestial  opened  his  eyes  without  under- 
standing the  word  pianist,  he  added  to  it  a  pantomime  with 
his  fingers  which  he  shook  rapidly  in  the  air  repeating 
"great,  great." 

Sam  Kee  bowed  very  profoundly,  regarding  me  with  a 
restless  look.  It  is  plain  that  the  pantomime  with  the  fin- 
gers did  not  inspire  him  with  confidence.  He  accompanied 
me  as  far  as  the  door,  all  the  time  bowing  to  me  profoundly, 
as  much  for  the  purpose  of  complimenting  me,  as  from  fear 
lest  I  might  use  the  agility  of  my  fingers  to  his  detriment. 
I  should  not  be  astonished  if  he  had  mentioned,  on  return- 
ing to  his  writing  to  his  correspondents,  that  he  had  just 
received  the  visit  of  a  celebrated  robber  of  the  United 
States. 

One  of  these  rich  Chinese  made  his  daughter  come  over. 
She  was  so  beautiful  that  several  Yankees,  Europeans,  and 
Celestials  fell  in  love  with  her.  The  miserable  father  in  his 
distress  did  not  know  what  to  do  to  secrete  his  treasure  from 
the  indiscreet  regards  of  the  enthusiasts.  He  closed  his 
door  on  all  visitors.  But  the  type  of  Rosina  in  the  '  Bar- 
bier  de  Seville'  is  the  eternal  type  of  amorous  damsels. 
An  admirer  had  some  ability  in  his  plan,  and  one  night  the 
house  was  besieged  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  oft*  the 
beauty  from  her  jealous  father.  The  old  Chinese  and  his 
servants  barricaded  themselves,  and  defended  themselves  so 
well  that  they  put  the  besiegers  to  flight.  The  event  made 
such  an  impression  on  the  honest  merchant  that  he 
freighted  a  ship,  and  forty-eight  hours  after  the  beautiful 
Chinese  set  out  again,  sighing  for  the  banks  of  the  yellow 
river — ^where  probably  she  has  married  a  fat,  big-bellied 
mandarin  to  whom  she  does  not  care  to  speak  about  her 
adventure  with  the  young  barbarian. 

I  doubt  if  the  old  Chinese  has  a  very  flattering  idea  of 
our  civilization. 


THE  MORMON  MISSION AR  Y.  375 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

I  WAS  introduced  to  Mr.  de  Cazotte,  French  Consul.  He 
is  the  grandson  of  Cazotte  of  the  revolution,  one  of  the 
tamous  lUuminati. 

In  a  narrow  street  near  Stockton  Street  we  see  two  or  three 
unfortunate  creatures  concealing  their  misery  under  paint  and 
tinsel,  and  smiling  at  us  with  that  horrible  stereotyped  smile 
which  ballet  dancers  and  courtesans  possess  the  secret  of. 

Two  days  after  my  arrival  a  visiting  card  was  brought 
me.  "The  gentleman  is  waiting  for  you  down  stairs," 
said  the  servant.  I  meet  a^ain  here  a  young  Frenchman, 
one  of  my  friends,  Parisian  in  mind  and  heart. 

I  have  been  introduced  to  one  of  the  Croesuses  of  San  Fran- 
cisco, whose  fortune,  it  is  said,  is  incalculable.  He  came 
here  as  a  Mormon  missionary,  but  quickly  perceived  that 
there  was  more  gold  to  be  gained  than  proselytes  to  be 
made.  The  women  were  then  in  such  an  infinitesimal  pro- 
portion to  the  male  population  that  it  would  have  been 
ridiculous  to  preach  polygamy  to  those  who  were  forced  to 
be  celibates. 

He  obtained  a  round  sum  which  he  made  use  of;  money 
brought  then  ten  or  fifteen  per  cent.,  and  in  a  few  years  he 
had  made  many  millions.  He  was  in  his  office  when  I  was 
admitted  into  his  presence,  and  was  amorously  caressing 
the  big  toe  of  his  right  foot  with  the  index  finger  and 
thumb  of  his  left  hand.  "Gottschalk,  Gottschalk!"  he 
said  to  me,  without  letting  go  his  big  toe,  "  I  know  that 
name.  "Ain't  you  one  of  them  opera  singers  ?  What  do 
you  sing,  bass  or  tenor  ?" 

He  has,  I  am  assured,  renounced  the  doctrine  of  polygamy, 
but  he  drinks  a  great  deal. 

French  commerce  is  represented  here  by  many  consider- 
able houses.  Contrary  to  that  of  other  countries  where  the 
French  play  in  the  money  market  only  a  secondary  part, 
they  rank  here  among  the  first. 


\ 


876  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST, 

Accustomed  to  the  female  type  of  the  United  States,  the 
foreigner  is  struck  here  with  the  small  number  of  pretty 
women  that  he  meets  with  in  the  streets.  Truth  farces  me 
to  say  that  the  proportion  of  pretty  faces  and  dresses  is 
remarkably  inferior  to  the  Atlantic  States.  I  have,  it  is 
true,  met  in  society  some  charming  young  girls  and  married 
women,  but  they  are  rare  exceptions. 

The  newspapers,  thie  'Alta  California,'  the  'Bulletin,' 
etc.,  are  numerous,  and  generally  are  well  edited  as  regards 
political  matters ;  in  matter  of  art  they  have  too  frequently 
encouraged  the  circus,  Mazeppa,  and  the  minstrels,  to  have 
true  taste,  and  particularly  to  treat  art  and  artists  with  the 
attention  and  respect  which  they  deserve.  We  have  invited 
all  the  newspaper  editors  to  a  supper  at  our  hotel,  after 
having  paid  them  a  personal  visit  (which  not  one  of  them 
has  returned).  Of  the  twelve  or  fifteen  invited,  two  only 
came,  and  they  belonged  to  the  same  paper.  From  the 
othera  we  have  never  received  any  excuse,  any  card,  or  any- 
thing else  indicating  that  they  had  the  least  notion  of  the 
elementary  laws  of  politeness.  It  is  true  that  after  my  first 
concert  they  all  gave  me  very  flattering  notices,  but  all  I 
owe  them  is  limited  to  that,  or  nearly  so.  Accustomed  to 
the  courtesy  of  the  East,  I  have  felt  their  indifterence  so 
much  the  more,  as  the  number  of  pianists  who  have  visited 
San  Francisco  gives  them  less  right  than  the  others  to  be 
blase.  There  is  yet  too  much,  decidedly,  of  Zoyara  and  of 
Menken  in  the  atmosphere.  Let  us  not  hastily  conclude  from 
this  that  the  people  here  are  uncouth.  San  Francisco  is  one 
of  the  most  polished  cities  in  the  world,  and  infinitely 
more  refined  than  many  of  those  in  the  West.  But  a  concert 
for  them  is  a  concert,  that  is  to  say,  an  amusement,  dearer 
and  less  entertaining  than  other  exhibitions,  and  from  their 
point  of  view  they  are  right.  A  dozen  of  apples  are  worth 
more  than  a  banana ;  there  are  more  of  them,  and  they  do 
not  cost  so  much.  As  for  enthusiasm,  Menken  and  company 
seem  to  be  the  only  ones  who  can  excite  it  here.  Billy 
Burk,  the  minstrel,  has  left  behind  him  here  ineffaceable 
souvenirs.  Many  ladies  expressed  in  my  presence  the  void 
that  his  departure  has  caused  in  the  budget  of  amusements 
at  San  Francisco. 

Maguire's  opera  has  commenced  the  season  with  *Trovar 


FIRST  REPRESENTATION  OF  '' ERNANL''  877 

tore.'  Putting  aside  the  infatuation  of  small  towns  for 
everything  that  is  new,  the  troupe  is  perfectly  justified  by 
its  success. 

We  have  announced  a  series  of  six  concerts.  The  two 
operas,  which  are  in  full  activity,  will  be  a  rude  competi- 
tion for  us.     In  any  other  country  we  should  think  little  of 

it,  but  here,  where,  since  Mme.  B (and  what  an  opera), 

there  has  been  no  Italian  company,  they  have  all  the  at- 
traction of  novelty.  I  was  present  at  the  representation  of 
'  Ernani'  at  the  Metropolitan.  Morelli,  the  excellent  bari- 
tone, played  '  Charles  V.'  He  has  still  his  fine  voice,  his 
intelligent  conception  of  the  part,  and  his  just  intonation. 
This  last  quality  will  suflSce,  to  my  notion,  to  secure  him 
public  admiration, — ^as  to  sing  false  has  to-day  become  a 
condition  sine  qua  non  of  singers.  The  choruses,  composed 
in  great  part  of  Germans  and  Italians,  have  been  quite  sat- 
isfactory, as  well  as  the  orchestra.  I  am  not  anxong  those 
who  admire  Verdi  to  excess.  Some  of  his  operas,  *Attila' 
for  instance,  seem  to  me  in  some  parts  unworthy  of  a  great 
musician,  but  on  listening  to  the  quintette  in  the  second 
act,  the  duo  of  the  basso,  the  trio  finale,  and  the  finale,  I 
cannot  help  recalling  with  bitterness  the  unskilled  judg- 
ment which  the  whole  European  press,  and  all  the  simple- 
tons, who  compose  three-quarters  of  the  public,  gave  twenty 
years  ago.  I  was  present  at  the  first  representation  of 
*Ernani  at  the  Theatre  des  Italians  at  Paris.  I  was  in  the 
box  of  Madame  Mennechet  de  Barival,  a  writer  of  merit, 
an  eminent  pianist,  and  the  Egeria  of  Ambroise  Thomas. 
"What  detestable  platitudes!  Wliat  vulgarity  I  What 
noise !  What  vacuity !"  re-echoed  around  me.  Ifot  one  of 
the  beauties  of  the  opera  was  noticed,  and  all  the  little 
ballad  composers  fell  upon  him  and  tore  him  to  pieces.  I 
myself,  who,  thank  God,  have  never  found  enough  gall  in 
my  nature  to  make  me  rejoice  at  the  fall  of  a  confrere,  I, 
myself,  in  good  faith,  found  everything  detestable.  No- 
thing easier,  I  said  to  myself,  than  to  make  such  operas. 
It  has  happened  to  me  since  to  try  to  make  an  opera,  and 
the  day  in  which  I  sketched  out  a  bad  duo,  I  all  at  once 
perceived  that  Verdi  possessed  genius.  I  recommend  to 
manisticules^  who  deny  talents  to  their  confreres,  who  dare 

8S* 


878  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

to  compose,  this  little  exercise,  which  cannot  fail  of  being 
useful  to  their  petty  vanity. 

California,  1865. 

I  am  wanting  a  pianist.  I  had  executed'  on  fourteen 
pianos  the  March  of  Tannhauser  arranged  by  myself.  Its 
success  had  been  so  great  that  I  had  to  announce  another 
concert  on  fourteen  pianos.  On  the  Qve  of  the  concert  one 
of  my  pianists  fell  sick.  What  am  I  to  do  ?  Put  off  the 
concert?  i^ever!  A  warmed-up  dinner  is  never  worth 
anything.  In  the  matter  of  concerts  you  must  never  put 
off.  The  public  is  flighty,  capricious,  pitiless.  Learn  to 
seize  the  hour  it  is  favourable  to  you ;  if  you  do  not,  it 
escapes  you  without  any  reason. 

Announce  only  thirteen  pianos.  Another  error,  still 
more  dangerous.  The  public  wish  to  hear  fourteen  pianos, 
and  if  you  give  it  one  less  it  will  think  itself  robbed.  It 
demands  fourteen  pianos  in  full  view  on  the  platform. 
Should  you  place  some  manikins  on  it,  it  will  be  satisfied, 
provided  that  it  sees  there  the  number  of  pianos  that  were 
announced.  The  difficulty  was  becoming  insurmountable. 
San  Francisco,  although  filled  with  aU  the  corruption 
and  with  all  the  plagues  arising  from  civilization,  did  not 
then  possess  but  thirteen  first-class  pianoforte  players.  The 
proprietor  of  the  hall,  seeing  my  embarrassment,  offered  to 
speak  to  his  son,  an  amateur  pianist,  he  said,  of  the  first 
class,  who  played  Thalberg,  Liszt,  and  Gottschalk  without 
difficulty,  and  for  whom  it  would  be  only  play  to  take  the 
part  that  was  wanted  for  the  March  of  Tannhauser.  Ex- 
perience has  for  a  long  time  taught  me  that  it  is  well  for 
an  artist  to  beware  of  the  co-operation  of  amateurs  in 

feneral,  and  especially  of  those  who  play  everything  at 
rst  sight,  and  make  havoc  in  playing  the  pieces  of  Liszt 
and  Thalberg.  But  the  father  spoke  of  him  with  such 
assurance  that  I  accepted  his  son's  assistance  (God  protect 
you,  O  artists!  from  the  fathers  of  amateurs,  from  the  sons 
themselves,  and  from  the  fathers  of  female  singers !).  The 
concert  was  to  take  place  in  the  evening.  I  suggested  that 
a  rehearsal  would  be  necessary.  The  son,  who  in  the 
interval  had  been  introduced  to  me,  expressed  surprise, 
and  said  it  was  useless.  The  part  was  very  easy ;  he  played  the 


THE  AMATEUR  OF  SAN  FRANCISCO.  879 

fantasies  of  Liszt.  I  replied  that  it  was  less  for  the  diffi- 
culty of  execution  than  for  playing  together ;  and  that,  if 
he  wished,  I  would  play  with  him  to  point  out  to  him  the 
movements.  He  then  placed  himself  at  the  piano,  and 
like  all  amateurs,  after  havings  executed  a  noisy  flourish, 
attacked  with  the  boldness  of  innocence  the  piece  of  Tann- 
hauser.  At  the  end  of  two  bars,  my  mind  was  made  up ; 
I  knew  what  I  had  to  rely  on,  and  I  assure  you  that  it  was 
not  pleasant.  It  is  not  that  he  played  badly,  if  he  played 
at  all.  The  most  complaisant  ear  would  have  hardly  been 
able  to  distinguish  any  shreds  of  Wagner's  theme  which 
were  floating  here  and  there  like  waifs  in  the  midst  of  an 
ocean  of  false  notes,  in  a  deafening  storm  of  continuous 
pedal  (the  storm  cannot  be  described),  and  of  the  com- 
plete wreck  of  the  measure  and  spirit  of  the  author;  it 
was  no  longer  to  be  thought  of.  My  position  became  hor- 
rible. To  refuse  his  assistance — ^the  assistance  of  the  first 
amateur  in  San  Francisco!  elegant  and  rich,  who  had 
probably  caused  to  be  circulated  among  all  his  friends  and 
all  the  good  society  of  the  city  that  he  deigned  to  give  me 
the  use  of  his  talent !  It  was  impossible!  The  rehearsal 
was  short.  I  did  not  even  make  a  remark ;  it  would  have 
been  of  as  much  use  as  making  an  Adonis  of  -^op.  The 
father,  beaming  with  pride,  was  looking  at  me,  and,  wiping 
his  forehead,  after  the  piece,  said:  "Ah  ha !  what  did  I  tell 
you !"  The  young  man  seemed  convinced  of  his  worth,  and, 
with  the  ease  which  amateurs  only  possess  when  the  public  is 
in  question,  repeated  to  me  manj^  times,  graciously  smiling, 
with  a  satisfied  little  air,  "  Oh,  yes  !  I  think  that  that  does 
■very  well!  Besides^  it  is  very  easy!"  We  parted.  I 
thought  seriously  of  putting  off*  the  concert,  under  the 
pretence  of  indisposition,  when  my  tuner,  a  man  of  re- 
sources, said  to  me :  "  Sir,  if  this  young  man  plays,  trouble 
is  inevitable  with  the  other  pianos ;  it  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary to  prevent  his  being  heard,  and  the  only  way  to  do  it 
is  this" — ^and  at  the  same  moment  he  pushed  a  crochet  in 
the  piano  I  designed  for  the  amateur,  a  vertical  piano,  took 
out  the  whole  of  the  interior  mechanism,  and,  looking 
triumphantly  at  me,  added :  "  The  keyboard  remains,  but 
I  assure  you  that  there  will  be  no  more  false  notes."  The 
mode  was  excellent. 


380  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

The  evening  came.  The  hall  was  full.  My  amateur,  m 
white  cravat  and  evening  dress,  was  showing  himself  in  the 
hall.  His  friends  awaited  the  moment  of  his  entrance  with 
impatience.  He  requested  me  to  give  him  a  piano  near  the 
footlights  in  full  view  (for  it  must  be  stated  that  amateurs, 
who  should  be  less  familiarized  with  the  public,  have  an 
impassibility  and  sang  froid  which  we  never  acquire — 
again  innocence). 

I  placed  his  dumb  piano  in  the  middle  of  the  stage,  close 
to  the  prompter. 

Before  going  on  the  stage,  I  made  my  thirteen  acolytes 
take  notice,  that,  in  order  to  produce  the  greatest  eftect,  it 
was  indispensable  not  to  make  any  preludes,  that  thus  the 
public  might  be  more  surprised  on  hearing  all  at  once  the 
fourteen  pianos  attack  the  flourish  of  trumpets  with  which 
the  March  in  Tannhauser  commences. 

One,  two,  three — we  begin.  It  goes  on  marvellously. 
In  the  midst  of  the  piece  i  looked  at  my  amateur :  he  was 
superb ;  he  was  sweating  great  drops ;  he  was  throwing 
his  eyes  carelessly  on  the  audience,  and  performed  with 
miraculous  ease  the  passages  apparently  the  most  difficult. 
His  friends  were  in  raptures.    They  applauded  to  excess. 

Some  enthusiasts  even  cried  out,  "  Hurrah  for !"  (the 

amateur's  name).  "  Encore !"  ''  Encore ! ! "  We  must  re- 
peat the  piece.  But  at  the  moment  of  commencing  the 
amateur  forgot  my  recommendation  not  to  prelude,  and 
could  not  resist  the  tenaptation  to  play  a  little  chromatic 
scale.  I  see  him  now !  The  stupor  which  was  printed  on 
his  countenance  is  inexpressible.  He  recommenced  his 
scale.  I»J'othing.  The  piano  was  mute.  For  an  instant 
he  had  the  idea  that  the  ardour  with  which  he  had  played 
had  been  fatal  to  the  strings,  but,  throwing  a  glance  inside, 
he  saw  them  all  right.  Without  doubt  it  is  the  pedals, 
and,  after  some  shakes  impressed  on  the  pedals,  he  began 
again  his  little  chromatic  scale.  Then,  persuaded  that  the 
piano  was  just  out  of  order,  he  strove  to  make  me  under- 
stand that  we  could  not  begin  again  the  March. 

"Pst!  pst! !"  said  he  with  a  wild  air,  but  I  had  seen  the 
danger,  and  without  loss  of  time,  I  had  given  the  signal 
and  the  March  was  recommenced.  My  young  man,  to  save 
appearances  before  the  audience,  made  the  pantomime  of 


THE  SECRET  DISCLOSED.  381 

the  passages,  but  his  countenance,  which  I  saw  from  below, 
was  worth  painting,  it  was  a  mixture  of  discouragement  and 
of  spite.  The  fury  with  which  he  struck  the  poor  instru- 
ment, which  could  do  nothing,  was  very  funny. 

"That  was  ver^  well  done,  gentlemen,"  I  said,  on  enter- 
ing into  the  artists'  room,  "but  the  effect  was  less  than 
the  first  time." 

"The  mischief!"  said  my  amateur  to  me,  "my  piano 
broke  all  at  once." 

The  secret  was  kept  a  long  time  by  my  tuner,  but  it 
finally  leaked  out,  or  at  least  i  had  reason  for  supposing  it 
did  from  the  furious  glance  that  my  unfortunate  amateur 
threw  on  me  one  day  that  I  happened  to  salute  him  on 
meeting  him  in  the  street. 

Moral — ^beware  of  amateurs. 

I  have  been  to  mass  at  the  French  church.  The  priest, 
from  Auvergne,  gave  us  a  sermon  which  would  have 
been  only  grotesque,  if  it  had  not  been  the  height  of 
impropriety  and  absurdity  in  a  temple  consecrated  to  God. 

The  evidently  limited  intelligence  of  this  unfortunate 
priest,  placed  at  the  service  of  a  nasal  and  monotonous 
organ,  like  that  of  the  children  who  repeat  without  any 
inflexion  of  their  voice  and  without  punctuation  lessons 
which  they  do  not  understand — ^had  suggested  to  him  a 
digression  on  the  dogma  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  k  |)ropos 
of  the  month  of  Mary.  After  some  commonplaces, 
drawn  from  the  children's  catechism,  this  is  nearly  the 
luminous  theory  which  he  expressed.  He  wore  spectacles 
and  had  a  nervous  trick,  every  time  the  flow  of  his  ideas 
threatened  to  be  exhausted  (and  this  happened  every  two 
or  three  words),  of  carrying  with  a  convulsive  movement 
his  hand  to  his  nose,  to  be  certain  that  his  spectacles  were 
firmly  fixed,  then  coughed,  and  continued: — 

"  Mes  chera  freras.  Elu  Vierge  il  a  6te  achoinsie  a  parce 
qu'il  une  bonne  femme.  Ac  'telle  qu'alle  a  eleve  k 
Tenfant  Jesus.  Veres  savez  tous  combien  les  mferes  ont 
de  mal  pour  Clever  leurs  enfants.  C'est  elle  qu'a  pris 
soin  du  sien  que  elle  a  nourri.  II  lui  doit  tout  k  sa  mere 
et  alle  a  pris  sur  lui  le  droit  de  lui  demander  ses  faveurs. 
Aussi  apres  il  a  toujours  fait  tout  pour  lui  etre  agreable. 


382  J^OTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

Aussi,  ames  iehera  freras  voustre  meilleure  recommendar 
tion  est  de  vous  addresser  k  la  Vierge  Marie." 

The  peroration  of  the  sermon  is  too  original  for  me  not 
to  favour  you  with  it. 

"II  y  a  pas  beaucoup  de  monde  ici  k  cette  6glise,  ma  il 
y  a  des  paroisses  qui  ont  plus  de  families  que  la  paroisse 
de  San  Francisco  et  puis  alles  ont  leurs  occupations,  et  puis 
beaucoup  de  ces  families  qui  en  ont  sont  obligees  de  rester 
k  la  maison  pour  en  prendre  soin." 

This  rigmarole  worked  on  my  nerves.  It  is  unworthy 
of  the  CaSaolic  religion  to  permit  such  indecencies.  And 
I  admit  that  the  rrotestants  would  have  found  fault  if 
they  understood  French.  Fortunately  the  number  of 
reverends  who  speak  this  language,  which  so  much  in- 
fidel literature  has  sullied,  is  in  the  inverse  ratio  of  their 
hatred  for  the  doctrines  of  free  thought. 

Virginia  City,  Territory  of  Nevada,  June  4, 1865. 

We  have  at  last  arrived.  The  clerk,  an  impudently 
pompous  genius,  extended  on  his  chair  behind  the  desk, 
his  feet  as  high  as  his  head,  after  having  made  us  feel  by 
his  peremptory  tone  the  incommensurable  distance  which 
separates  poor  travellers  from  a  'hotel  clerk,'  grants  us 
permission  to  install  ourselves  at  the  rate  of  thirty-five 
dollars  per  day  in  a  chamber  six  feet  square.  I  timidly 
ask  if  there  is  not  a  larger  one,  but  he  answers  me  angrily, 
"No!"  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  me  understand  tbat  I 
must  not  abuse  his  patience,  under  pain  of  being  driven 
out  of  the  little  hole  he  has  been  willing  to  give  me. 
Fortunately,  to  the  hotel  a  restaurant  is  attached.  Kept  by 
a  Frenchman,  who  with  all  the  simplicity  of  his  nation 
tells  me  his  troubles — always  the  same — of  shares  taken  in 
the  mines  which  ought  to  pay  immense  dividends  and 
which  ruin  all  who  have  them. 

The  town  is  ugly — ^built  of  wood  on  rough  ground. 
The  streets  are  steep  and  irregular.  The  cafes  are  numer- 
ous. The  music  store  is  a  shoemaker's  shop,  two-thirds 
of  which  is  filled  with  boots  and  the  rest  with  drawers 
and  loose  sheets  of  music,  which  would  seem  to  prove  that 
the  population  walks  more  over  the  rugged  soil  of  the 
town  than  on  the  road  florid  with  art.    It  is  not  truly  to 


VIRGINIA  CITY.  883 

speak  a  town,  it  has  rather  the  appearance  of  one  of  those 
European  fairs,  which  once  a  year  attract  for  two  months 
merchants  and  purchasers  from  the  four  points  of  the 
horizon.  The  dust  blinds  when  it  does  not  choke  you, 
and  vice  versS,  and  both  at  once.  Shut  up  in  the  midst  of 
steep  mountains,  the  sight  perceives  as  far  as  it  can  extend 
only  the  gray  tints  of  the  arid  soil,  or  the  sombre  masses 
of  the  sage,  the  only  vegetable  that  growls.  It  is  meagre, 
sad,  mean,  and  monotonous.  I  have  never  really  known 
spleen  save  in  Virginia  City.  It  is  the  most  inhospitable 
and  the  saddest  town  that  I  have  ever  visited.  I  have 
passed  eleven  days  here,  daring  which  I  have  given  three 
concerts.  I  have  not  received  from  the  inhaoitants  one 
invitation,  not  one  visit,  nor  any  mark  of  distinction.  I 
fortunately  found  here  a  family  from  New  Orleans,  whom 
the  vicissitudes  of  fortune  have  temporarily  banished  here, 
and  a  young  Louisianian,  who,  by  their  interest,  sometimes 
contributed  to  dissipate  the  ennui  of  my  isolation. 

Sunday,  sitting  m  my  chamber,  the  window  opening 
on  my  terrace,  I  was  enjoying  the  only  advantage  which 
Virginia  City  possesses,  a  pure  sky.  Whiz,  splash,  whift', 
whew — good  God!  What  does  this  mean?  I  was  almost 
inundated  and  upset  by  a  column  of  water  which  continued 
to  invade  my  room.  "  That  is  nothing,"  said  a  servant  to 
me,  "  they  are  only  the  firemen  who  are  exercising  and 
amusing  themselves." 

Every  morning  I  go  out  with  the  firm  intention  of  com- 
forting my  conscience  by  letting  the  truth  be  known,  which, 
like  steam  too  long  compressed,  chokes  me,  that  Virginia  City 
is  the  saddest,  the  most  wearisome,  the  most  inhospitable 
place  on  the  globe;  but  the  first  person  that  I  meet  asks  me 
the  same  question  which  is  put  invariably  to  every  stranger 
who  arrives,  by  every  inhabitant  of  Virginia  City,  who 
speaks  to  him — ^"  Well,  sir,  how  do  you  find  our  place  ?"  and 
on  the  countenance  of  your  interlocutor  you  read  so  legibly 
that  he  expects  you  to  find  it  with  him  the  gayest,  the  most 
beautiful,  the  richest,  and  most  polished  m  this  part  of 
the  world,  that  you  do  not  feel  you  have  the  courage  to 
destroy  his  illusions  and  the  happiness  they  cause  nim. 
You  drive  back  the  compressed  vapour  of  your  discontent, 
and  answer  him  with  a  doubtful  "hem!"  which  he  natu- 


384  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

rally  translates  as  acquiescing  in  what  he  thinks,  and  he 
adds  with  an  air  of  satisfied  pride,  "You  bet  it  is !" 

I  have  been  ill  for  three  days.  Without  contradiction, 
nobody,  except  the  doctor  and  the  Louisianians,  of  whom  I 
have  already  spoken,  inquired  after  me.  Having  asked  for 
warm  water  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening,  the  pompous 
clerk  refused  me.  The  Frenchman  has  fortunately  the 
kindness  to  get  some  from  the  French  restaurant  keeper  in 
the  neighbourhood. 

I  begin  to  suspect  that  those  French  infidels  so  corrupted, 
and  whose  literature  is  so  immoral  {vide  Voltaire  and 
Rousseau),  are  less  ignorant  than  some  have  supposed  of 
those  small  virtues,  such  as  charity,  generosity,  and  kind- 
ness. 

June  9. 

I  leave  for  Daji:on  in  the  stage.  The  heat  is  excessive, 
fortunately  the  distance  is  only  six  miles.  We  have  four 
strong  horses,  in  one  hour  we  shall  be  there.  I  reckon 
without  the  driver.  He  passes  through  the  principal  street 
of  Virginia  City,  and  takes  up  two  other  passengers,  we  are 
three  outside  and  nine  inside.  The  stage  can  only  comfort- 
ably contain  eight.  We  stop  before  the  butcher's,  who 
gives  us  a  basket  of  meat.  "  Good  day,  Jo,  very  warm  to- 
day ;  will  you  hand  this  basket  of  meat  to  some  one  near  to 
Silver  City?"  Hua!  hia!  we  set  out  again.  "Jo,  my 
wife  wishes  to  go  there  also,  have  you  any  place?"  "  Any 
place !  but,  yes,  there  is."  She  gets  up.  The  sun  bakes 
me,  the  dust  blinds  me,  I  begin  to  lose  patience.  "  Driver, 
when  will  you  go?"  "What,  mister,  are  you  in  such  a 
hurry  ?"  (This  is  said  with  a  certain  emphasis,  suggesting 
the  idea  that  he  is  not  in  a  hurry.)  Hardly  started  again, 
we  hear  "  Driver,  I  want  to  go  to  Gold  Mill."  "  Get  up, 
there  is  room:"  a  new  passenger  who  gets  inside.  After  a 
certain  time  we  find  ourselves  in  the  suburbs  of  Virginia 
City.  We  have  added  to  our  load  three  baskets,  a  roll  of 
wall  paper,  and  a  trunk,  which  is  between  my  legs !  A  fat 
man,  who  is  sitting  on  the  hood  above  me,  puts,  with  imper- 
turbable coolness,  his  boots  upon  my  shoulder ;  two  fat,  red 
faced  women,  flanked  with  cabas,  with  parasols,  under  pre- 
tence of  being  afraid,  allow  Jo  to  gallantly  hoist  them  in  the 


THE  RIDE  TO  DA  YTON,  NEVADA.  385 

midst  of  the  other  unfortunate  inside  passengers,  where 
they  succeed  in  depositing  their  corpulent  bodies.  "  Cling, 
clang,"  we  are  rolling  along.  (My  neighbour  to  the  right 
speaking  to  Jo :)  "  Those  people  we  took  up  at  the  Inter- 
nal ionalj  are  they  not  a  part  of  the  travelling  company  at  a 
dollar  and  a  halt*  a  ticket ?"  "Yes,"  answered  Jo.  "Ah ! 
speak  to  me  of  Billy,  he  is  worth  one  doUarand  a  half;  he 
was  dead  drunk  every  evening,  although  a  charming  fellow." 
Thereupon  he  turned  round  to  take  notice  of  the  admiration 
which  what  he  had  just  said  produced.  "  Stop,  driver,  I 
am  going  to  Dayton!"  "There  is  room,  get  up."  My 
neighbour  above  me  draws  back  to  make  room  for  the  new 
passenger,  and  thrusts  his  two  boots  on  my  right  shoulder. 
This  furnished  an  opportunity  to  the  latter  to  place  his  upon 
my  other  shoulder,  and  here  I  am  between  the  two.  We 
arrive  at  the  toll-gate.  I  am  as  red  as  a  lobster,  my  nose 
peels.  The  dust  olinds  me.  The  sweat  which  I  wipe  off 
from  my  face  would  serve  for  mortar.  Our  driver  peaceably 
continues  his  journey,  taking  up  many  passenffers  with  his 
imperturbable  "  Plenty  of  room."  At  the  toll-gate,  I  get 
rid  of  the  trunk  between  my  legs.  Between  the  basket, 
which  raises  my  feet  several  inches  above  the  floor,  and 
the  boots  of  nay  companions  above  me  which  make  me 
bend  my  back,  I  had  the  appearance  of  one  of  those  Chinese 
grotesque  figures,  squatting  down,  the  chin  at  the  top  of 
the  knees,  which  ornament  the  etagferes.  After  two  hours 
of  suffering  we  arrived  at  Dayton.  Dayton  has  but  one 
street,  or  rather  has  none,  seeing  that  the  town  is  confined, 
or  nearly  so,  to  about  one  hundred  houses,  which  line 
the  road. 

Dayton,  Nevada,  June  9. 

A  small  village,  seven  miles  from  Virginia  City.  Sitting 
before  the  door  of  the  inn,  I  am  tranquilly  smoking  my 
cigar,  awaiting  the  hour  for  my  concert.  All  at  once  I 
hear  at  some  distance  the  noise  of  a  large  drum.  "  What 
is  that?"  to  the  landlord.  "Why,"  says  he,  looking  at 
me,  "  is  not  your  concert  for  to-night  ?  Well,  now,  they 
are  drumming  to  call  the  crowd."  A  ragamuflin  rushed 
through  the  street  ringing  a  bell  from  door  to  door  "to 
call  the  crowd ;"  but  the  finest  part  of  the  affair  is  that  for 
33 


386  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

ten  minutes  the  drums  and  the  big  drum  are  quiet.  At 
the  moment  of  taking  my  way  towards  the  theatre  I  am 
surrounded  by  two  drums,  the  ringer  of  the  bell,  and  the 
big  drum,  who  have  come  for  a  "run  up  to  the  show."  I 
contrive  to  escape,  and  fly  like  a  hare  from  fear  of  these 
cursed  drums. 

The  hall  of  the  theatre  is  lighted  (?)  by  three  or  four 
smoking  Argand  lamps.  The  stage  is  so  dark  that  our 
concert  has  rather  the  look  of  an  exhibition  of  the  stere- 
opticon.  Our  audience  consists  of  a  few  females,  ten  or 
twelve  boys,  including  therein  the  two  drums,  the  bass 
drum,  and  the  bell.  The  balance  are  miners  in  large  flan- 
nel shirts,  with  pantaloons  turned  up  over  their  large  boots. 
Their  large  Californian  hats  are  of  gray  felt  with  broad 
rims.  Do  not  hasten  to  conclude  from  this  that  they  were 
turbulent.  They  listen  attentively,  and  their  decent  and 
tranquil  demeanour  would  cause  shame  to  many  audiences 
that  pretend  to  the  reflnements  of  civilization.  It  is  not, 
besides,  the  first  time  that  I  have  had  the  opportunity  of 
taking  notice  of  this  fact  in  a  Californian  audience.  Their 
pretended  rudeness,  which  I  have  so  often  heard  spoken  of, 

foes  back  to  the  primitive  times  of  the  miner-colonists, 
'hey  are  now  much  more  refined,  better  educated  than  the 
'  Far  West.'  I  repeat  it,  I  have  rarely  seen  a  more  peace- 
ful population.  It  is  true  that  I  make  my  programmes  as 
simple  as  possible.  It  would  be  as  absurd  to  play  for  them 
pieces  very  difiicult  to  understand,  or  classical  music,  as  to 
give  beefsteaks  to  a  newly-boni  infant.  They  have  never 
heard  the  piano,  and  of  all  instruments  it  is  ihe  most  difii- 
cult to  render  comprehensive  to  an  audience  who  have 
almost  or  never  heard  music.  Every  instrument  which 
from  its  nature  embraces  multiple  combinations  of  sounds, 
is  obscure  to  an  ear  that  is  not  accustomed  to  it.  Scarcely 
is  the  concert  ended,  than  a  young  girl  out  of  the  audience 
mounts  the  platform  and  quietly  turns  out  the  only  Argand 
that  gave  light,  whether  poorly  or  well,  to  this  part  of  the 
exhibition.  I  suppose  she  is  the  daughter  of  the  proprietor, 
and  I  would  wager  that  she  will  be  a  precious  acquisition 
to  the  husband  who  shall  marry  her.  At  ten  o'clock  at 
night,  we  get  into  the  stage  again  to  return  to  Virginia 
City.    This  time  I  am  sitting  alone  near  the  driver.    The 


THE  TWO  LOVERS.  387 

weather  is  superb.  The  moonlight  is  splendid.  The  sky- 
above  our  head  is  of  a  sombre  blue,  in  which,  like  detached 
diamonds,  the  stars  shine  out.  On  the  horizon,  the  moun- 
tains, bathed  in  transparent  vapours,  give  to  the  landscape 
the  appearance  of  a  fairy  scene. 

The  mountains  are  brought  so  near  that,  seen  from  the 
height  where  we  are,  through  this  blue  vapour,  they  seem 
to  be  the  waves  of  an  ocean,  which,  by  a  magical  effect, 
have  become  petrified  in  the  midst  of  a  tempest.  The 
breeze,  which  blows  softly,  brings  to  us  the  thousand  dis- 
tant sounds  from  the  deep  valleys  and  high  peaks.  A  bird 
concealed  at  the  bottom  of  the  precipice  makes  its  monoto- 
nous song  heard,  composed  of  three  notes,  which  it  repeats 
without  interruption. 

At  the  turn  of  the  road  we  perceive  at  the  top  of  the 
mountain,  along  the  sides  of  which  our  road  winds,  an 
Indian.  My  driver,  it  appears,  has  lived  a  long  time  among 
them.  They  are,  said  he,  very  peaceful,  and  less  lazy  than 
the  majority  of  their  race.  They  go  to  Virginia  City  every 
day,  and  are  employed  in  carrying  water,  burdens,  etc.  It 
must  be  said  that  they  have  no  stable  occupations.  The 
Indian  only  lives  from  day  to  day,  and  would  never  be  able 
to  accustom  himself  to  any  permanent  work.  Their  wives 
are  very  chaste.  She  who  is  unfaithful  is  condemned  by 
the  tribe  and  put  to  death.  Last  year  the  people  of  Gold 
Hill  went  to  gather,  at  the  proper  season,  pine-cones  in  the 
woods  of  the  neighbouring  mountain.  A  young  Indian 
woman  and  one  of  the  young  men  of  Gold  Hill  met.  They 
loved  each  other.  Some  time  after  the  two  lovers  were 
surprised  by  an  Indian  of  the  tribe  coming  out  of  the 
tunnel  of  the  Ophir  Mine.  He  showed  no  resentment,  and 
even  accepted  some  money  which  the  young  man  offered 
him  to  secure  his  silence.  The  next  day  the  body  of  the 
poor  Indian  girl  was  found  in  the  tunnel  of  the  Ophir  Mine. 


388  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

June  18,  1865. 

Left  Virginia  City  at  three  o'clock.  Having  timidly 
asked  at  the  stage  office  why  he  took  fifteen  dollars  from 
me,  the  clerk  answered  me,  looking  angrily  (probably 
because  I  had  spoken  politely  to  him),  "  that  he  had  no 
reason  to  give.  But  if  I  still  must  know  more  ?  I  tell 
you  that  you  must  pay  fifteen  dollars,  and  that  ends  it ; 
and  if  you  are  not  satisfied,  I  will  make  you  pay  sixty  dol- 
lars. Are  you  satisfied?  God  damn  you!"  Amiable 
people !  Yes,  I  am  satisfied  that  my  last  impression  of 
Virginia  City  is  such  that  my  joy  at  leaving  it  can  be  still 
more  augmented,  which  at  first  sight  did  not  appear  to  me 
possible.  For  the  same  reason  that  the  Turks  in  the 
greatest  heats  take  vapour  baths  for  the  purpose  of  finding 
the  atmosphere  afterwards  comparatively  cool,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  visit  Virginia  City  for  the  purpose  of  afterwards 
finding  those  places  tolerable  where  otherwise  you  would 
be  killed  with  ennui. 

For  some  miles  the  landscape  presents  its  dull  and  sickly 
appearance.  The  vegetation  continues  to  be  mean,  but 
soon  the  grass  begins ;  a  river — ^the  Turkey,  I  believe — 
rolls  its  turbulent  waters*  over  a  rocky  bottom.  The  trees 
are  numerous.  We  pass  through  a  forest  of  pines.  The 
landscape  becomes  charming.  The  mountains  are  again 
covered  with  forests.  The  gray  tints  are  replaced  with 
green  verdure.  The  moon  rises  and  adds  to  the  beauty  of 
the  scene.  We  are  nine  inside,  of  whom  one  is  a  lady. 
Feeling  sick,  I  asked  a  man  who  occupied  a  comer  if  he 
would  change  places  with  me  for  a  moment,  as  I  was  suf- 
fering (I  never  could  ride  backwards).  He  refuses  me  with 
the  most  cruel  sangfroid.  0  Christianity !  When  will  thy 
spirit  be  implanted  in  these  gross  natures  ?  Politeness  is  a 
virtue  which  approaches  on  more  than  one  side  to  charity, 


DUTCH  FLAT.  g89 

and,  BO  long  as  our  fellow-countrymen  shall  affect  to  despise 
politeness,  they  will  be  savages  and  not  Christians. 

"  I  bet  you  it  is  the  place  to  get  a  good  dinner.  Virginia 
is  the  place,  you  bet.  There  ain't  a  place  in  the  world 
(nothing  short  of  the  world  would  do),  you  bet,  where  you 
can  live  better  than  in  Virginia."  This  is  from  my  neigh- 
bour who  gives  vent  to  his  feelings,  having  had  a  bad  sup- 
per at  the  previous  station. 

The  night,  a  dreadftil  night,  fortunately  compensated  for 
by  glimpses  of  a  magnificent  nature  which  the  moon  lighted 
up,  passed  slowly. 

The  lady  at  the  back  complains  that  her  neighbour  in  the 
middle  crowds  her  too  much,  or  that  the  one  opposite  treads 
upon  her  feet;  all  the  awkwardness  that  I  have  met  with 
scarcely  ever  takes  place  in  stages  but  during  the  night. 

The  first  rays  of  day  at  last  illuminate  our  faces— dirty, 
covered  with  dust,  our  eyes  swollen  from  want  of  sleep,  etc. 
We  arrive  at  Dutch  Flat,  a  pretty  little  village,  concealed 
at  the  bottom  of  a  wooded  gorge  like  a  nest  in  a  bush.  The 
neat,  white  houses  are  covered  with  magnificent  rose  bushes, 
whose  flowers  cover  the  trellis  as  high  as  the  roof.  They 
are  small  frame  houses  very  neat,  very  small,  etc. 

Concert  this  evening.  Almost  one  hundred  and  seventy 
persons.  Audience  very  quiet— very  quiet  because  they  do 
not  applaud.  It  is  true  that  they  did  not  otherwise  show 
their  discontent.  I  very  much  suspect  that  they  regretted 
their  dollar  and  a  half.  "  Taken  in,"  said  one  of  them  some 
time  afterwards,  and  added,  to  console  himself,  "  It  is  true 
that  for  once  it  is  nothing."  It  will  be  the  givers  of 
concerts  after  me  who  will  feel  their  resentment.  I  still 
cannot  help  remarking  the  propriety  of  conduct'  of  these 
audiences  who,  however  wearisome  our  music  must  appear 
to  them,  submit  to  it  without  protest. 

It  often  happens  to  me  when  playing  to  look  at  my 
audience.  There  are  certain  passages  where  I  am  so  ac- 
customed to  see  their  countenances  brighten  up,  that  in 
civilized  audiences  I  am  wont  to  consider  it  an  indissolu- 
ble thing  like  cause  and  eftect.  For  example,  the  close  of 
'Murmures  Eoliens'  or  even  'Last  Hope,'  or  the  end  of 
'Ojos  Criolos.'  Here,  I  perceived  that  it  is  exactly  as  if  I 
was  speaking  Chinese ;  they  hardly  imderstand  it,  and  in- 
,  33* 


390  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

quisitively  regard  me  exerting  myself  with  that  curious  and 
vacant  air  which  other  ignoramuses,  for  instance,  cast  upon 
the  hands  of  a  telegraph  operator.  How  many  things  there 
are  to  learn,  we  often  cry  out !  Come  here,  and  in  seeing 
these  audiences,  you  will  see  how  many  things  it  is  possible 
to  be  ignorant  of. 

To  give  you  an  idea  of  the  artistic  ignorance  here,  it  will 
suffice  to  copy  an  account  which  has  appeared  to-day. 
^'  Last  evening  the  opera  hall  was*  filled  to  overflowing  I 

(there  were  dances,  comedies,  etc.).  X.  was  received  with 
thunders  of  applause,  but  he  is  past-master  in  his  art..  His 
imitations  upon  the  violin  of  birds,  quadrupeds,  are  inimi- 
table. His  music  is  what  can  be  felt  and  understood  with- 
out any  need  of  being  a  musician  (a  blow  at  me).  Every- 
body understood  it."  And  here  is  the  measure  of  the  tastes 
of  Nevada.  0  ignorance !  when  will  you  cease  to  be  pre- 
tentious and  insolent ! 

I  have  been  sick  for  three  days.  I  cannot  recollect  in 
fifteen  years  of  travels  and  vicissitudes  having  passed  eleven 
days  so  sadly  as  here.  I  defy  your  finding  in  the  whole  of 
Europe  a  village  where  an  artist  of  reputation  would  find 
himself  as  isolated  as  I  have  been  here.  If  in  place  of  play- 
ing the  piano,  of  having  composed  two  or  three  hundred 
pieces,  of  having  given  seven  or  eight  thousand  concerts,  of 
having  given  to  the  poor  one  hundred  or  one  hundred  and 
fifty  mousand  dollars,  of  having  been  knighted  twice,  I 
had  sold  successfully  for  ten  years  quarters  of  salted^  hog, 
or  had  made  a  great  fortune  by  selling  dear  what  I  had 
bought  cheap,  my  poor  isolated  chamber  would  have  been 
invaded  by  adorers  and  admirers.  Decidedly  the  country 
of  money  is  not  the  one  of  artists.  "  Muse,  etendez  vos  ailes 
et  fuyez  au  plus  vite." 

June  16,  1865. 

Left  Dutch  Flat  by  stasje  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
Nevada  City  is  thirty  miles  off^,  and  we  shall  be  there  at 
half-past  eleven  o'clock.  The  country  is  charming,  less 
mountainous ;  it  permits  the  sight  to  extend  over  green 
prairies,  which  gently  undulate  and  are  lost  in  the  pine 
forests  which  cover  the  sides  of  the  distant  mountains.  At 
nine  o'clock  we  are  at  Grass  Valley,  a  veritable  garden; 


GRASS  VALLEY.  391 

laughing,  spruce,  flowery,  coquettish,  it  has  under  the 
morning  sun  which  gilds  it  the  appearance  of  bidding  me 
welcome.  Adieu  to  my  spleen !  I  have  forgotten  Virgjinia 
City  and  its  vilknous  mountains,  bald  and  grim,  which 
make  mouths  at  you  perpetually  as  if  they  wished  to  re- 
proach you  for  trie  incessant  overturning  to  which  the 
cupidity  of  men  condemns  them.  Here  the  roses  climb  to 
the  roof  tops,  the  trees  are  gigantic,  the  brooks  gayly  roll 
their  crystal  waters,  wantonmg  amid  the  rocks  which  are 
in  their  way.  No  more  briers,  but  trees  and  flowers ;  no 
more  of  bald  leprous  hill-tops,  but  verdure  and  finally  life. 
I  respire,  I  live  affain. 

Grass  Valley  is  charming.  The  streets  are  carefully 
planked ;  this  gives  them  the  appearance  of  a  floor.  The 
hotel  is  excellent.  The  journalist  comes  to  pay  me  a  visit. 
We  set  out  again  at  eleven  o'clock  for  Nevada,  which  is 
only  four  miles  from  Grass  Valley.  The  valleys  become 
larger.  The  view  is  magnificent.  The  trees  are  gigantic. 
At  a  turn  of  the  road  we  see  all  at  once  below  us  a  lareje 
valley,  a  pasture,  a  garden  in  the  midst  of  which  little 
houses  are  at  first  scattered,  afterwards  they  are  grouped 
together,  and  finally  form  a  village — it  is  Nevada.  The 
streets  are  also  planted  as.  well  as  the  pavements,  and  they 
are  so  united  and  so  clean  that  one  might  think  one  was 
driving  over  a  floor.  There  are  several  fine,  spacious  hotels, 
furnished  with  luxury.  Large  billiard  halls  are  attached  to 
them. 

Concert  at  Temperance  Hall.  One  hundred  and  fifty 
persons  who  listen  with  infinite  attention.  I  would  not 
dare  to  say  that  they  listened  with  pleasure,  but  at  least 
they  behaved  themselves  decently.  There  is  decidedly  an 
amelioration  in  this  evening's  audience.  All  are  well 
dressed.  Some  females  have  hats.  Temperance  Hall  backs 
on  a  steep  hill,  covered  with  verdure,  on  the  top  of  which 
is  hunff  a  charming  cottage  of  Chinese  architecture,  painted 
rose-ccuour,  white,  and  green. 

Nevada  City,  June  17,  1865. 

I  have  already  given  twelve  concerts  at  San  Francisco, 
made  a  tour  to  Sacramento,  Placerville,  Carson  City,  Day- 
ton, Gold  Hill,  Virginia  City,  and  Dutch  Flat.    I  shall  not 


392  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

try  to  give  you  an  idea  of  the  fatigue  of  these  travels. 
Those  who  are  unacquainted  with  this  country  could  never 
conceive  what  the  roads  are  in  the  mountains,  and  the  dan- 
gers of  all  kinds  accompanying  the  route  from  San  Francisco 
to  Nevada.  Let  it  suffice  to  state  that  I  remained  twenty 
hours  in  the  stage  from  Placerville  to  Carson  City.  Also 
that  I  was  sick  for  three  days  afterwards. 

California  is  a  humbug.  The  climate  is  certainly  splen- 
did ;  the  mineral  and  natural  richness  of  the  soil  are  inex- 
haustible. Th.Q  finest  fruits  and  vegetables  in  the  world  are 
found  here.  But  what  is  all  this  to  a  man  who  owns  no 
mines,  to  know  that  they  produce  abundantly  (is  this 
always  true)  ?  If,  like  myself,  he  eats  but  little,  and  is  not 
an  epicure,  what  does  it  matter  to  him  that  the  most  splen- 
did salmon  in  the  world,  and  the  most  magnificent  straw- 
berries are  found  here?  Are  the  mines,  the  salmon,  the 
strawberries,  etc.,  a  compensation  for  the  thousand  and  one 
things  wanting,  which  are  discovered  at  every  moment,  at 
every  step  in  the  so-called  civilization  of  the  Golden  City  ? 
The  women  are  not  pretty,  and  they  dress  as  if  the  whole 
stock  of  the  second-hand  clothing  shops  of  Paris  had  been 
sent  to  California. 

San  Francisco,  July  19,  1865. 

I  have  commenced  a  second  series  of  concerts  here  which 
so  far  have  been  very  successful. 

August  15,  1865. 

I  have  left  on  board  the  steamer  Julia,  to  go  to  Stockton. 
After  having  crossed  the  bay,  we  get  into  a  kind  of  bayou 
which  narrows  the  passage  so  that  the  sides  of  the  boat 
graze  the  banks ;  this  tongue  of  the  sea  pierces  the  land  as 
far  as  Stockton,  ninety  miles  from  San  Francisco.  We 
arrived  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  but  I  slept  until 
eight,  and  did  not  go  on  shore  until  nine.  Put  up  at  the 
Weber  Hotel.  Do  not  suppose  that  it  refers  to  the  musi- 
cian, but  rather  to  a  German  colonist,  to  whom  almost  the 
whole  town  belongs,  and  who  possesses  a  fortune  of  many 
millions. 

The  town,  or  rather  the  village,  resembles  Sacramento 
on  a  very  small  scale :  several  churches,  pretty  little  cot- 


COLFAX  AND  GOLDAX.  893 

tages  concealed,  like  nests,  behind  the  thick  foliage  of  the 
large  trees. 

Concert  small,  in  a  mean  hall,  without  platform.  Re- 
ceipts one  hundred  and  twenty-eight  dollars.  The  expenses 
amount  to  more  than  the  receipts.  I  have  been  introduced 
to  Judge  Underbill,  a  charming  man,  who  is  an  amateur  of 
music,  and  plays  the  organ  in  the  Presbyterian  Church  of 
his  friend  the  pastor  Happersett.  The  latter  is  a  charming, 
jovial,  agreeable  old  man,  whose  frank  laughter  indicates  a 
tranquil  conscience,  and  the  absence  of  gall.  Amiable  man ! 
The  organ  of  his  little  church  is  charming.  His  room  is  on 
a  level  with  the  organ  loft,  and  its  recess  communicates 
directly  with  the  pulpit.  At  the  time  I  paid  him  a  visit  I 
found  him  writing  his  sermon  for  the  next  Sunday.  Large, 
round,  and  legible  writing,  clear  and  firm,  like  the  good 
man's  character.  The  most  magnificent  fruits  ripen  here, 
peaches,  figs,  grapes,  etc. 

A  small  newspaper  gives  an  account  of  my  concert..  It 
has  discovered  that  I  shake  with  the  thumb  and  the  fourth 
finger,  and  thence  concludes  that  I  do  not  know  how  to 
play  the  piano,  and  that  I  am  a  charlatan  incapable  of 
playing  Beethoven.    The  same  nonsense  still ! 

I  have  visited  the  insane  hospital ;  been  introduced  to  a 
German  baron,  a  very  distinguished  man,  a  captain  in  the 
Prussian  army,  a  civil  engineer  of  the  greatest  worth.  He 
possesses  great  intelligence,  but  he  is  insane  and  imagines 
that  a  band  of  jealous  persons  has  been  organized  to  follow 
hira  day  and  night,  and  to  ridicule  him. 

Colfax,  the  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Representatives  at 
"Washington,  is  here.  He  spoke  last  night  to  an  immense 
crowd.  The  placard  of  the  meeting  announcing  Colfax,  and 
that  for  my  concert,  are  alongside  of  each  other.  A  fat 
farmer,  who  evidently  understood  no  more  about  politics 
than  he  did  about  music,  mixing  the  two  names  into  one, 
inquired  "  Who  then  is  this  Goldax  ?" 

Dined  at  the  Lafayette  Restaurant,  kept  by  a  Frenchman, 
and  have  eaten  there,  which  it  would  have  been  impossible 
for  me  to  have  done  at  the  Weber  Hotel. 

My  second  concert  has  not  been  much  more  fruitful  than 
my  first.  The  baron  (of  the  Insane  Hospital)  was  there, 
and  congratulated  me  on  my  great  talent.     An  amateur  of 


394  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

the  town  played  a  solo  on  the  flute  one  tone  lower  than  the 
piano.  The  teacher  of  the  piano  is  an  old  German  player 
on  the  trombone,  who,  not  being  able  to  play  the  piano, 
hums  the  air  to  his  scholars.  One  of  the  last  pieces  given 
by  him  for  them  to  practise  is  'Mo'ise  de  Thalberg!' 

I  was  presented  on  my  fete-day  with  a  superb  medal. 
All  the  details  of  the  presentation  will  be  found  in  the  fol- 
lowing notice :  "  For  two  days  the  wondering  crowd  has 
stopped  at  the  window  of  Mr.  Tucker,  the  jeweller,  in 
Montgomery  Street,  to  admire  the  beautiful  jnedal  pre- 
sented to  Gottschalk  on  the  day  of  St.  Louis,  his  fete-day, 
by  his  friends  of  San  Francisco,  in  testimony  of  their 
appreciation  of  his  talent  and  of  their  esteem  for  his  per- 
sonal qualities.  It  is  to  Mr.  F.  L.  A.  Pioche,  whose  well- 
known  liberality  is  equalled  only  by  his  love  for  the  arts 
and  the  protection  which  he  gives  them,  that  appertains, 
we  are  assured,  the  initiative  of  this  magnificent  offering 
of  respect  rendered  to  a  great  artist  and  to  an  amiable  man, 
by  the  61ite  of  the  Bank  and  of  the  great  merchants  of  San 
Francisco.  The  subscription-list,  having  at  the  head  the 
names  of  Mr.  Pioche  and  of  our  worthy  and  respected  con- 
sul, Mr.  De  Cazotte,  was  covered  in  a  few  hours  with  forty 
signatures.  Mr.  Mezzara,  the  eminent  sculptor,  offered, 
with  the  zeal  of  an  artist  whose  heart  is  always  ready  to 
associate  him  with  noble  thoughts,  to  design  the  model  for 
the  medal  which  Mr.  Tucker  was  called  upon  to  execute. 
It  was  on  the  5th  of  August  that  the  model  of  Mr.  Mezzara 
was  sent  to  him,  and,  although  there  were  only  twenty 
days  for  him  to  accomplish  the  difficult  and  delicate  task 
which  he  was  called  on  to  perform,  he  has  succeeded  in 
making  a  chef-d'oeuvre  of  jewelry  which  is  certainly  unique 
in  America,  and  which  could  not  be  surpassed  in  elegance, 
in  delicacy,  and  in  magnificence  in  the  ateliers  of  Froment 
Meurice  himself. 

"^  The  presentation  of  the  medal  took  place  at  the  dinner 
which  the  forty  subscribers  gave,  on  the  25th  August,  to 
Gottschalk.  The  menu  of  the  banquet,  whose  bill  of  fare 
must  easily  have  made  the  ghosts  of  Vatel,  Careme,  and 
Brillat  Savarin  leap  for  joy,  was  a  marvel  of  gastronomic 
research  and  of  culinary  chemistry.  At  the  moment  of 
taking  their  seats  at  the  table,  Mr.  Pioche,  after  a  few  well- 


A  MAGNIFICENT  GIFT.  895 

chosen  words,  handed  to  Gottschalk,  in  the  name  of  all  of 
them,  the  casket  of  red  velvet  containing  the  medal.  Mr. 
De  Cazotte,  Messrs.  Badger,  Pioche,  Pringle,  Oaselli,  Rich- 
ard, and  Scott  made  several  speeches  h  propos  of  the  occa- 
sion, to  which  Gottschalk  replied  with  the  modesty  and 
tact  which  characterize  him. 

"  The  medal  is  of  gold.  It  is  nine  inches  in  circumfer- 
ence. The  principal  face  is  formed  of  six  plates  of  aurife- 
rous quartz  of  diiFerent  colours  artistically  arranged,  on 
which  are  fixed  the  initials  L.  M.  G.  in  diamonds,  sur- 
rounded with  a  crown  of  laurels  in  diamonds  and  rubies. 
The  knot  of  the  crown  is  fastened  by  a  magnificent  soli- 
taire. The  reverse  of  the  medal  bears  the  arms  of  Cali- 
fornia in  relief,  surrounded  by  a  circle  of  diamonds.  Below 
are  these  words:  'To  Gottschalk:  a  token  from  his  Cali- 
foniian  friends.  26  Aug.  1865.'  The  attachment  of  the 
medal  is  made  of  a  large  rin^  set  with  diamonds,  in  the 
midst  of  which  is  a  Ivre  also  with  diamonds. 

"The  intrinsic  value  of  this  jewel,  which  has  cost,  we 
are  told,  more  than  two  thousand  dollars,  is  still  surpassed 
by  its  artistic  merit.  It  would  be  impossible,  without  see- 
ing it,  to  form  an  idea  of  the  delicacy  of  the  work,  of  its 
marvellous  finish,  and  of  the  exquisite  taste  of  this  little 
chef-d'oeuvre.  Let  us  felicitate  Mr.  Mezzara  on  the  origin- 
ality which  he  has  shown  in  the  conception  of  its  design, 
and  Mr.  Tucker  on  the  fidelity  with  which  he  has  executed 
it.  Let  us  congratulate  Gottschalk  for  having  been  able 
by  his  private  qualities  and  his  talent  to  make  friends  who 
know  now  to  prove  in  such  a  significant  manner  their 
esteem  for  him. 

"  This  present  is  worthy  of  a  monarch,  and  it  appertained 
to  the  Queen  City  of  the  Pacific  to  present  to  the  first 
musician  of  America  a  testimony  which  was  at  the  same 
time  worthy  of  the  artist  and  in  harmony  with  the  mag- 
nificent generosity  and  the  marvellous  development  of  the 
modem  El  Dorado." 

On  board  the  Colorado,  September  30,  1865. 

In  sight  of  the  coast  of  Costa  Rica. 
Purgatory  is  not  what  foolish  people  think  it  is.    I  know 
by  experience  that  it  consists  for  the  moment  in  going  at 


396  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

the  rate  of  fourteen  knots  an  hour  under  a  sun  which  would 
melt  a  copper  mine,  and  I  am  almost  sure  of  going  ashore 
if  we  arrive  at  any  part  of  the  Elysian  Fields.  I  think  that 
I  have  sinned  in  my  life,  but  the  sum  of  all  my  misdeeds  has 
been  cruelly  expiated  in  the  first  three  days  of  my  sojourn 
on  the  Colorado,  during  which  I  have  first  been  purged  by 
the  most  unmerciful  sea-sickness,  which  has  had  at  least 
this  good  eftect — that  it  has  forced  me  to  keep  my  bed, 
and  does  not  expose  me  to  the  remarks  of  my  travelling 
companions. 

I  left  San  Francisco  on  the  eighteenth.  The  heat  in  the 
cabin  is  suffocating.  I  go  on  deck.  The  moon  illuminates 
with  a  bluish  and  transparent  light  the  coast  of  Costa  Rica. 
The  effect  of  this  scene — ^whose  indecisive  lines  are  lost  on 
the  horizon  in  the  large  brilliant  clouds,  the  phosphores- 
cence of  the  sea  in  these  tropical  latitudes,  where  it  seems 
to  roll  in  waves  of  living  silver,  and  the  transparency  of  the 
atmosphere — recalls  to  me  the  scenes  of  the  theatre,  where 
behind  a  veil  of  silver  gauze  is  displayed,  amid  the  bluish 
light  of  the  bengal  fires,  the  splendour  of  the  enchanted 
palace  of  the  final  apotheosis.  The  light  of  the  moon  is 
such  that  I  can  easily  read  a  volume  of  Alphonse  Karr, 
which  I  bought  at  San  Francisco. 

The  passengers  between  decks  are  lying  pell-mell  on  the 
poop,  and  snoring  to  see  who  can  do  best.  Several  families  of 
French  emigrants  form  a  kind  of  encampment  by  them- 
selves. The  mothers,  the  children,  and  the  young  girls 
sleep  alongside  of  each  other,  and  the  brothers  and  nus- 
bands  form  the  frontier.  One  of  ray  cabin  companions, 
driven,  like  myself,  on  deck  by  the  heat,  gives  me  the  fol- 
lowing details  about  the  Sandwich  Islands,  where  he 
dwelt  for  a  long  time  and  which  he  has  lately  left. 

The  details  interest  me  so  much  the  more  as  King  Ka- 
mehameha  V.  gave  me  an  invitation  to  visit  his  Court. 
The  islands  of  Hawaii,  which  form  the  kingdom  of  the  Sand- 
wich Islands,  are  six  in  number.  They  were  discovered  by 
Mendoza,  but  it  is  generally  thought  that  Captain  Cook 
discovered  them.  The  latter  was  killed  there  in  a  quarrel 
which  arose  between  his  sailors  and  the  natives.  Kameha- 
meha  I.  was  the  Napoleon  of  Hawaii;  chief  of  a  district,  he 
caused  himself,  by  his  valour,  to  be  recognized  as  king  of  the 


KAMEHAMEHA.  397 

• 
whole  of  the  islands,  afterwards  he  armed  a  brig  which  he 
had  kept  when  Vancouver  made  his  voyage  of  discovery, 
and  with  the  assistance  of  two  English  sailors,  who  had 
deserted  (John  Young  and  Davies),and  became  his  ministers, 
he  conquered  all  the  other  islands  of  the  archipelago.  The 
last  battle  he  was  engaged  in,  and  in  which  his  victory 
was  decisive,  and  gained  him  the  sovereignty,  took  place  in 
the  valley  of  ISTonhouhanon  ^Cold  Val  ley).  Many  thousands 
of  the  hostile  Kanaks,  on  seeing  themselves  conquered,  rather 
than  yield,  threw  themselves  in  a  body  from  an  immense 
precipice  formed  by  a  huge  rock  w^hich  rises  more  than 
three  thousand  feet  above  Cold  Valley. 

Kamehameha  was  a  man  of  genius.     He  predicted  Euro- 

Eean  civilization.  Assisted  by  the  two  sailors  he  applied/ 
imself  to  civilize  and  polish  his  people.  The  Kanaks  are 
mild  and  hospitable.  Their  instincts  are  poetic,  and  they 
possess  a  simplicity  and  candour  almost  infantine.  The 
Kanak  religion  was  Fetichism.  They  believed  in  superior 
spirits.  All  their  idols  were  symbolical.  They  had  a  sin- 
gular custom,  the  Taboo. 

Kamehameha  in  his  sphere  was  one  of  the  great  spirits  of 
humanity.  His  height  was  gigantic,  being  six  and  a  half 
feet.  The  prestige  which  surrounded  him  was  marvellous. 
The  Europeans  themselves  felt  it,  so  irresistible  is  the  force 
of  genius.     He  lived  at  the  beginning  of  this  century. 

Polygamy  existed,  and  the  chiefs  and  kings  had,  most 
frequently,  their  sisters  and  daughters  for  wives.  In  every 
district  where  the  king  stopped  in  travelling,  all  the  women, 
single  and  married,  rushed  to  him  with  the  offer  to  partake 
of  his  royal  couch.  In  every  chief's  family  there  was  one 
of  the  daughters  who  was  devoted  to  the  office  of  learning 
their  traditions  for  the  purpose  of  perpetuating  them. 

Queen  Kalama,  widow  of  Kamehameha  III.,  has  been  the 
one  who  was  best  acquainted  with  the  traditions  of  the 
country.  In  this  country  it  is  only  the  mother  who  ennobles. 
So  far  is  this  carried  that  if  the  king  himself  married  a 
woman  of  an  inferior  condition  to  his  own,  her  children 
would  be  strangled  in  the  cradle.  '  It  is  thus  that  Queen 
Kalama,  who  was  not  of  illustrious  birth,  saw  all  the  fruits 
of  her  union  with  Kamehameha  III.  perish.  This  respect 
for  nobility  through  the  female  is  such  that  Prince  William, 
34 


398  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

son  of  a  chief  who  does  not  possess  great  nobility,  but  who 
married  the  granddaughter  of  Kamehameha  III.,  considers 
himfeelf  nobler  than  the  actual  king,  who  descends  from  K. 
only  by  the  male  line.  Besides,  the  father  of  Prince  Wil- 
liam behaves  with  great  humility  before  his  son,  and  shows 
him  all  possible  respect  on  account  of  the  great  nobility  of 
his  wife.  In  the  time  of  Cook  the  population  was  at  least 
three  hundred  thousand  souls.  In  1866  the  census  gave 
eighty-eight  thousand  Kanaks  and  two  thousand  whites. 
The  Kanak  type  approaches  that  of  all  the  other  inhabi- 
tants of  Oceanica.  Long,  black,  glossy  hair ;  complexion 
copper-coloured,  thick  lips.  The  proportions  of  their  body 
attain  a  perfection  which  recalls,  the  most  celebrated  types 
of  antique  statuary. 

Honolulu,  in  the  island  of  Oahu,  is  the  capital  of  the 
kingdom,  and  the  residence  of  the  court.  It  possesses  an 
admirably  sheltered  port,  which  can  hold  two  hundred  and 
fifty  vessels.  The  town  is  built  at  the  foot  of  an  extinct 
volcano,  of  which  there  are  twenty  in  the  island.  In  the 
island  of  Hawaii  are  found  the  greatest  volcanoes  in  the 
world.  In  1856-67  not  less  than  ninety  craters  were  in  a 
state  of  activity.  A  peculiarity,  when  these  volcanoes  are 
in  eruption,  Vesuvius  is  also  in  eruption.  In  1859  the  lava, 
ten  to  fifteen  miles  in  breadth,  and  for  a  course  of  fifty 
miles,  ravaged  the  country.  It  filled  up  valleys,  mountains, 
and,  precipitating  itself  into  the  sea,  filled  up  many  small 
ports. 

The  islands  are  surrounded  with  coral  and  madrepore, 
which  constantly  increases  their  size  by  forming  alluvium 
land.  The  mountains  are  enormous.  The  two  principal 
volcanoes  are  called  Maonnarana  and  Maonnakea. 

Victoria,  the  sister  of  the  present  king,  who  will  reign 
after  him,  is  very  ugly  but  very  intelligent  and  of  dissolute 
manners.  She  countersigns  the  records  of  the  king,  in 
quality  of  Quinamii,  that  is  to  say,  prime  minister ;  it  is 
her  function  by  birth. 

The  uniform  of  the  king  is  that  of  a  lieutenant-general 
of  France. 

The  military  music  is  organized  and  directed  by  a 
German.  The  king  was  living  some  years  since  with  his 
old  wife.  Queen  Kalama.    His  palace  is  superb,  in  the 


MANZANILLA-'A  CAPUL  CO.  899 

midst  of  a  park,  and  is  furnished  in  French  s^le  with 
marvellous  luxury.  All  the  portraits  of  living  European 
sovereigns  are  there.  The  receptions  at  the  palace  are 
very  brilliant  and  imposing.  The  climate  is  temperate 
and  delicious. 

Their  manners  are  dissolute,  and  the  women  are  addicted 
to  libertinage.  They  marry  at  from  ten  to  eleven  years 
of  age  and  at  twenty-four  are  old. 

On  board  the  Colobado,  September  30. 

We  reached  on  the  twenty-fourth  Manzanillo,  a  Mexican 
town,  concealed  in  a  little  baj^',  encased  by  mountains, 
whose  sides  lose  themselves  in  the  shore ;  the  town  m  fact 
is  but  a  cluster  of  huts.  The  Mexican  imperial  flag  floats 
at  the  end  of  a  mast  on  the  roof  of  a  square  frame  white- 
washed building,  the  governor's  palace  without  doubt. 
Two  or  three  pirogues  loosen  from  the  shore  and  approach 
our  steamer,  one  of  them  manned  by  three  young  Mexicans, 
covered  with  muslin  drawers,  which  descend  as  far  as  the 
middle  of  the  thigh.  They  use  paddles.  The  youngest 
of  the  three  is  ten  years  old  at  most.  He  absolutely  wished 
to  sell  me  a  monstrous  tortoise,  which  he  has  all  the 
trouble  in  the  world  to  keep  at  the  bottom  of  his  boat. 
Not  being  able  to  sell  it  he  seats  himself  on  the  back  of  the 
monster,  who  tranquilly  cmwls  along  without  appearing 
to  notice  this  increase  of  his  load. 

Another  canoe  has  boarded  us ;  it  is  that  of  the  custom- 
house. A  half  naked  Indian,  whose  shirt,  with  sleeves 
bound  with  yellow  pipings,  is  in  tatters,  is  an  imperial 
soldier  who  accompanies  the  custom-house  oflicer. 

Arrive  at  Acapulco  to-morrow.  Acapulco,  according  to 
the  dictionary  of  Mr.  Bouillet,  is  what  in  reality  it  is  not, 
for  it  is  only  a  small  borough.  The  houses  are  all  low, 
and  consist  of  only  a  ground  floor.  The  French  returned 
here  four  days  ago  and  have  landed  a  garrison  of  three 
hundred  Mexican  soldiers.  They  are  for  the  most  part 
Indians  or  mulattoes,  who  go  barefooted  and  are  very  dirty. 
There  is  not  one  of  them  whose  uniform  is  perfect,  while 
the  greater  number  have  the  short  coat  like  the  Prussian, 
which  reaches  to  the  middle  of  the  thighs.  They  are 
small  and  repulsively  ugly.    A  large  oflicer  of  awkward 


400  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

jftgure  like  a  Don  Quixote,  in  uniform  of  the  line,  parades 
with  his  hand  proudly  placed  on  the  handle  of  his  large 
sword.  He  has  a  long  blue  coat  and  cap,  wears  a  watch- 
chain  which  is  loose  on  his  velvet  waistcoat,  a  fanciful 
cravat  and  gray  pantaloons  spotted  with  grease.  I  ask 
him  for  his  cigar  to  light  mine  with,  and  with  that 
facility  of  making  acquaintance  which  the  Spanish  Ameri- 
can possesses,  he  recounts  to  me  his  feats  of  valour.  "  We 
have  only  three  hundred  soldiers  here  now,  but,"  he 
added  bridling  up,  "all  picked  troops." 

A  fat  old  man  with  a  large  straw  hat  on  his  head,  and 
his  lip  covered  by  a  formidable  gray  moustache,  drew 
near  to  ask  me  if  I  had  any  recent  news  from  Mexico. 
"  The  general,"  said  the  lieutenant,  who  introduces  to  me 
this  old  Don  Quixote.  The  general  is,  as  I  have  since 
learned,  only  a  colonel,  but  it  is  good  taste  in  the  Mexican 
army,  among  the  subalterns,  to  exalt  the  commander  before 
strangers. 

The  whole  town  is  depopulated.  The  French  had 
hardly  shown  themselves,  than  Mr.  Diego  Alvarez  retired 
behind  the  mountains  which  surround  Acapulco,  with 
his  soldiers,  and  all  the  inhabitants  followed  him. 
It  is  less  in  reality  through  hatred  of  the  French  than 
through  fear  of  the  terrible  Mexican  general,  that  this 
exodus  has  taken  place.  In  fact  during  the  first  French 
occupation,  the  army  denounced  many  of  the  inhabitants 
for  having  fraternized  with  the  enemy ;  they  were  tried 
and  shot  by  Alvarez.  One  Frenchman  only,  whose  little 
shop  bears  the  sign  'Bazar  du  Pacifique,'  has  had  the 
courage  to  remain,  and  yet  we  are  assured  he  has  opened 
only  this  morning  on  the  arrival  of  the  steamer  and  will 
close  again  on  its  departure.  He  sells  nothing  to  the 
imperialists  and  lives  in  the  cellar  during  the  day. 


PANAMA  AND  ITS  PORTERS.  401 


CHAPTER  XXVL 

October  1. 

Landed  at  Panama.  The  steamer  cast  anchor  before  the 
island  of  Tobago,  at  two  miles  distance  from  the  town. 
The  site  is  ravishing ;  the  island  is  a  broken  coast,  whose 
steep  and  precipitous  declivities  plunge  perpendicularly 
into  the  blue  sea.  A  boat  comes  for  us,  it  will  have  to 
make  three  trips,  for  it  cannot  carry  at  once  four  hundred 
passengers,  a^id  we  are  at  least  four  hundred.  The  wharf 
IS  crowded.  The  negro  porters,  sellers  of  fruit  and  cigars, 
quarrel  among  themselves,  as  customary,  for  their  prey. 
Each  of  us  is  assailed  by  six  or  eight  of  these  ragged  mon- 
keys, who  offer  us  their  services  in  English,  French,  and 
Spanish,  and  often  impose  themselves  imperiously  upon  us 
by  seizing,  whether  we  are  willing  or  not,  our  trunks. 
The  women  sell  lemonade,  rum,  and  parrots.  It  is  enough 
to  drive  one  wild ;  we  are  jostled,  squeezed,  tossed  about 
from  one  end  of  the  wharf  to  the  other.  ^  The  first  train  is 
just  starting  for  Aspinwall,  it  is  for  the  steerage  pas- 
sengers. 

i  succeed  in  collecting  three  of  my  trunks,  which  are  run- 
ning at  random  on  the  shoulders  of  three  busy  bodies,  who 
were  in  quest  of  a  job,  and  who  consent,  by  means  of  a 
forced  contribution,  to  permit  me  to  take  possession  of  my 
property.  A  hat-box  and  small  trunk  are  still  missing, 
but  after  the  departure  I  shall  probably  find  them,  because  I 
took  the  precaution  of  writing  on  them  "  Panama,"  which 
signifies  that  I  stop  there,  and  takes  from  the  porters  the 
hope  of  keeping  them  with  impunity.  There  remains  to 
them  the  consolation  in  perspective  of  skinning  me  under 
the  pretext  of  having  had  to  watch  my  baggage  for  two 
hours. 

An  omnibus,  drawn  by  two  sorry-looking  horses,  swagged 
in  the  back,  driven  by  a  negro,  takes  me  to  the  town  pro- 
perly so-called,  which  is  a  mile  offl    On  our  road  we  pass 

34* 


.402  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

by  wretched  cabins,  negroes  in  tatters,  ruins  of  stone-houses, 
some  tottering  walls,  the  stones  of  which  served  for  build- 
ing the  few  new  tottering  hovels  which^  are  built  in  this 
decrepit  town.  On  a  hut,  a  sign  in  French,  "  French  gen- 
tlemen travellers  are  informed  that  Jean  Fran^'ois,  from 
Paris,  washes  and  does  everything  pertaining  to  his  trade." 

A  large  square  building  of  cut  stone,  the  whole  of  which 
is  broken  down,  and  the  interior  of  which  has  become  a 
medley  of  climbing  plants  and  trees,  is  the  old  Jesuit 
college.  This  is  the  old  town,  the  title  might  lead  one  to 
suppose  that  the  remainder  is  less  in  ruins.  Vain  illusion. 
Ruins!  ruins !  ruins !  The  cathedral  is  falling  down.  The 
w^ooden  balconies  of  the  houses  lean  towards  the  street 
with  an  evident  tendency  of  throwing  into  it  those  who 
might  be  so  imprudent  as  to  venture  into  them.  The  dis- 
mantled roofs  are  covered  with  vegetation.  The  clock- 
tower  of  the  cathedral  is  covered  instead  of  slate  with 
pearl  oyster  shells  incrusted  in  the  masonry,  which  sparkle 
in  the  burning  rays  of  the  sun.  The  streets  are  narrow  and 
crooked,  and  the  pavements  resemble  the  brim  of  a  well. 
The  porches  serving  for  entrances  to  the  shops  are  dark : 
they  sell  in  therii  a  lot  of  tatters  and  other  mean  dirty  things. 

The  Aspinwall  Hotel  is  kept  by  a  Frenchman.  The 
hotel  is  dirty,  pnd  dilapidated;  the  dinner  is  passable, 
although  I  found  many  flies  in  my  soup  and  omelette. 

Opposite  to  the  hotel  a  Frenchwoman  keeps  a  shop  of 
superannuated  dresses. 

I  have  been  walking  on  the  promenade  of  the  ramparts  on 
the  edge  of  the  sea.  An  old  cannon,  which  keeps  itself  in 
equilibrium  on  half  of  a  gun  carriage,  is  what  remains  of  an 
immense  barrack  of  cut  stone.  Tne  walls  have  crumbled 
and  the  roof  is  falling  in.  The  ground  floor  still  remains. 
The  windows  are  grated,  it  serving  for  a  prison.  A  crowd 
of  unfortunates  stretch  out  their  hands  to  me  through  the 
bars.  "  Un  medio,  Senor."  I  throw  some  small  pieces  of 
money  to  them.  "  Dios  lo  bendiga,,"  covered  with  benedic- 
tions, I  was  about  retiring;  but  the  soldiers,  allured  by 
my  generosity,  are  at  my  heels,  and  I  am  soon  surrounded 
by  a  score  of  black  and  yellow  ring-tail  monkeys  in  red 
caps,  who  have  come  out  of  the  guard-house.  By  their 
caps  I  guess  that  I  have  business  with  the  inyincibles  of  the 


THE  OLD  BISHOP  AND  DAUGHTERS.  403 

army  of  occupation.  The  uniform  consists  of  a  scarlet  cap, 
cotton  drawers,  no  shirt.  Some  have  bayonets  at  their 
sides,  others  a  cartouche  box  hung  by  a  shoulder-strap,  and 
no  shoes.     They  were  fighting  three  weeks  ago. 

I^ANAMA,  October  7. 

A  concert,  organized  by  subscription,  given  in  the  hall 
of  the  Hotel  de  v  ille.  The  tickets  are  a  dollar.  Receipts 
one  hundred  and  forty  dollars.  The  audience  appears  to 
be  charmed,  whilst  I  am  playing  on  a  cottage  piano  which 
I  suspect  was  the  product  of  an  illicit  union  between  a 
jew's-narp  and  a  large  kettle.  The  climate  is  so  hot .  and 
damp  that  the  best  piano  is  not  playable  at  the  end  of  three 
weeks.  Besides  they  have  no  tuner.  The  only  person  who 
meddles  with  them  is  an  unfortunate  French  secretary  at 
the  consulate,  who  has  one-half  of  his  face  and  nose  eaten 
off  by  a  frightful  cancer. 

I  have  seen  to-day  the  President  of  the  State, '  Sobrerano,' 
of  Panama.  He  is  a  dark  mulatto,  who  received  me  in  his 
shirt-sleeves  and  slippers,  in  a  nasty,  miserable,  and  unclean 
little  house.  His  mother  is  an  old  negress  who  sells  pre- 
served guava,  which  she  makes  herself,  and  who  goes  every 
morning  to  market,  barefooted,  in  her  chemise.  The  Presi- 
dent is  the  son  of  the  old  Bishop  of  Panama. 

Yesterday  I  was  admiring  a  pretty  girl,  eleven  or  twelve 
years  old,  who  was  making  some  purchases  in  the  French 
Bazaar  opposite  the  hotel.  She  is,  I  am  told,  the  daughter 
of  the  priest — this  was  said  artlessly,  as  if  we  had  been 
only  speaking  of  the  mayor.  Besides  her,  the  priest  has 
also  six  others — all  pretty.  She  did  not  hesitate  in  saying 
when  she  purchased :  "  Place  that  on  account  of  papa,  u 
Senor  Cura." 

The  French  consul,  Mr.  De  Y ,  cousin,  I  believe,  of 

Mr.  Drouyn  de  L'Huis,  is  a  charming  man,  who  gave  me 
an  excellent  dinner,  which  I  thankfully  accepted  and 
appreciated  with  pleasure  after  the  infernal  cooking  on 
board. 

He  showed  me  some  superb  specimens  of  the  ceramic 
art  of  the  Indians,  found  in  digging  near  Chiriqui,  two 
hundred  to  three  hundred  miles  in  the  interior.  It  is 
curious  that  the  form,  design,  and  colour  of  the  vases  recall 


404  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

to  mind  those  of  the  Etruscans.  In  the  necropolis  of 
Chiriqui  an  innumerable  quantity  of  ffolden  ornaments 
have  been  found.  The  consul  has  made  a  collection  of 
them.  Some  of  them  are  elegant  and  of  remarkable  work- 
manship. They  are  for  the  most  part  animals — lizards, 
frogs,  sharks,  and  crabs — from  one  to  five  inches  in  length, 
cast  in  gold,  which  they  doubtless  suspended  from  the 
neck,  if  I  were  to  judge  from  the  small  rings  which  were 
invariably  found  in  all  these  objects,  artistically  concealed 
in  the  paws  or  placed  in  the  middle  of  the  sculpture. 

The  consul,  having  heard  of  very  rich  discoveries,  wrote 
lately  to  his  agent  at  Ohiriqui,  ordering  him  to  purchase 
all  the  ornaments  which  had  been  found  in  the  recent 
excavations.  The  latter  complied,  and  the  consul  received 
at  the  end  of  a  few  days  a  very  heavy  box  full  of  shapeless 
golden  ingots, — the  agent  having  had  the  happy  idea,  he 
said,  of  flattening  with  the  hammer  all  the  objects,  so  that 
th^  might  take  up  less  room ! 

To  give  you  an  idea  of  the  richness  of  the  excavations, 
the  weight  of  the  rough  gold  in  the  objects  found  at 
Chiriqui  has  been  valued  at  seventy  thousand  dollars. 

The  church  is  dilapidated ;  and  everywhere  the  horrible 
taste  of  the  Spanish  religion :  silver  papers,  artificial  flow- 
ers, horrible  paintings.  A  picture,  representing,  I  suppose, 
?urgatory,  has  particularly  attracted  my  attention.  The 
'rinity,  painted  on  a  cloud,  lets  fall  on  a  crowd  of  weeping 
parents  indulgences  and  medals.  In  one  comer  a  little 
priest,  on  a  little  cage,  in  which  a  spit  of  souls  in  trouble 
are  roasting  over  a  furnace,  lets  fall,  as  through  the  chink 
of  a  money-box,  a  few  pieces  of  silver,  which  doubtless  are 
to  refresh  the  roasting  ones.  Completely,  at  the  bottom  of 
the  picture,  are  seen  the  flames  of  purgatory,  in  the  midst 
of  which  a  pope,  a  bishop,  a  king,  a  white  man,  a  black 
man,  and  an  Indian  are  burning — to  prove  doubtless  that 
ho  one  is  protected  from  the  flames  of  purgatory,  and  con- 
sequently could  not  be  dispensed  from  paying  its  debt. 
There  are  some  farmers  who  pay  the  priest  for  permission 
to  sweep  the  church  out  after  high  mass  on  Sunday.  They 
carefully  gather  up  the  dust  and  spread  it  over  their  fields, 
persuaded  that  it  is  an  excellent  fertilizer  and  that  it  blesses 
their  crop. 


APA  TH  Y  AND  IGNORANCE.  405 

•  Nothing  could  give  you  an  idea  of  the  ignorance  and  the 
apathy  of  these  people,  who  constantly  see  the  progress  of 
the  civilization  of  the  Americans,  and  who  nevertheless 
continue  to  isolate  themselves  better  than  the  Chinese  do 
behind  their  Great  Wall.  They  have  a  horror  of  innova- 
tions. The  foreigner  is  repugnant  to  them  because  he 
represents  a  summary  of  ideas  and  customs  difterent  from 
those  which  have  been  transmitted  to  them  by  their  ances- 
tors. They  take  great  care  not  to  expand  their  views  be- 
yond their  small  sphere  of  action,  in  which  they  are  so 
circumscribed  that  they  have  finally  lost  all  idea  of  social 
proportion  or  historical  perspective.  They  depreciate  all 
foreign  events  which  take  place,  and  exaggerate  all  those 
which  appertain  to  themselves. 

Their  views  never  extend  beyond  the  circle  of  little 
intrigues  and  petty  passions  in  which  they  take  part. 
Through  constantly  occupying  themselves  only  with  them- 
selves, they  finally  lose  every  idea  of  proportion ;  the  im- 
perceptible sphere  in  which  they  move  becomes  the  centre 
of  the  world;  the  universe  looks  at  them — they  think 
themselves  great. 

Panama,  October  10. 

The  French  consul  has  just  told  me  that  I  will  make  the 
voyage  to  Lima  in  company  with  sixteen  French  Sisters  of 
Charity,  two  Lazarists,  and  a  young  Peruvian  priest,  who 
has  just  taken  orders  at  Rome.  God  grant  that  this  holy 
cargo  may  procure  for  us  a  calm  and  a  nappy  voyage ! 

The  English  steamer  is  a  dozen  miles  distant  from  f  anama. 
A  little  steamer — in  which  are  piled  our  trunks,  upon  which 
the  whole  of  the  sisters  and  the  priest  have  seated  them- 
selves— stakes  us  oft'.  Singular  change  !^  I  cast  a  look  of 
regret  on  this  miserable  little  town  in  ruins.  I  leave  there, 
almost  affections,  doubtless  very  premature;  but  a  travelling 
pianist  is  outside  of  all  rules,  he  has  little  time  to  lose,  he 
loves  very  quickly,  and  I  have  left  behind  me  many  pieces 
of  my  heart  hanging  on  the  thorns  by  the  road. 

There  was  opposite  to  my  hotel  a  little  Indian  girl,  w^ith 
large  black  eyes,  and  coarse  hair,  which  scarcely  yielded  to 
the  constraint  of  a  large  gold  comb.  A  supple  figure, 
beautiful  yellow  bronze  round  shoulders,  naked  or  nearly 


406  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

SO — ^her  dress  being  very  light,  and  open  on  her  bosom.- 
She  is  a  seamstress  at  the  dressmaker's.  I  have  never 
spoken  to  her.  She  has  a  very  wild  and  timid  look— only 
sixteen  years  old.  I  looked  at  her  very  often  from  my  bal- 
cony. One  day,  for  a  pretext,  I  took  her  a  ribbon  which  I 
did  not  want,  and  which  I  had  bought.  She  was  teaching 
the  alphabet  to  a  little  Indian  sitting  at  her  knees — ^perhaps 
her  brother.  I  asked  her  with  my  softest  voice  if  it  was  her 
brother.  She  did  not  answer  me,  but  ran  and  hid  herself 
behind  the  shop.  My  amours  stopped  there,  though,  to 
speak  the  truth,  I  affected  not  to  see  her  any  more  when  I 
passed  her  in  the  street.  I  often  looked  at  her  again,  con- 
cealed behind  my  blinds.  Grapes- — ^too  green!  always  the 
same  story ;  we  cannot  reach  them,  and  we  revenge  our- 
selves on  them  by  a  look  of  contempt.  0  villanous  numan 
nature!  Fortunately  for  me  my  desire  of  conquering  is 
never  so  great  as  my  fear  of  being  conquered,  and  the  un- 
certain perspective  of  victory  would  never  lead  me  to  give 
battle  when  the  issue  might  be  a  defeat. 

The  brave  sisters  sing  canticles,  but  the  little  boat  begins 
to  rock  singularly.  The  sea  is  rough,  the  boat  plunges, 
rises  again,  and  trembles  like  a  restless  horse  who  does  not 
like  his  rider.  It  is  certain  that  she  shakes  herself  as  if 
she  wished  to  get  rid  of  her  burden.  Our  trunks  tumble 
down.  The  poor  sisters  did  not  require  this  catastrophe  to 
interrupt  their  canticles.  Alas !  already  many  of  them, 
with  dim  ^"e  and  pale  face,  wrestle  in  vain  against  sea- 
sickness. The  Superioress  herself,  after  having  swallowed 
her  dignity  as  long  as  she  could,  gets  up,  and  disappears  at 
the  stern.  The  fat  Polish  priest  neaves  great  sighs.  The 
little  Peruvian  priest  is  stretched  at  the  bottom  of  a  grotto 
formed,  mid  the  fray,  in  the  middle  of  the  mountain  of 
trunks,  and  the  little  Italian  Lazarist,  mad,  distracted,  rolls 
his  large  eyes  without  looking  around  him,  muttering  me- 
chanically his  breviary,  which  he  interrupts  to  lean  in  the 
attitude  of  a  resigned  martyr  upon  the  rigging  of  the  ves- 
sel. But  as  to  myself  I  soon  lost  the  faculty  of  looking  at 
the  ills  of  others,  for  the  purpose  of  feeling  more  my  own, 
and  what  are  they?  Sea-sickness  is  the  most  unmerciful, 
the  most  terrible,  and  the  most  implacable  of  all  evils. 


FROCESSION  DURING  HOLY  WEEK.  407 

OppoBitB  TO  Patta  (Peru),  October  15. 

Some  one  was  lately  relating  to  me  that  in  a  procession 
at  Guatemala  during  holy  week,  the  devotees,  no  longer 
satisfied  with  the  large  wooden  Christ  which  they  prome- 
naded, thought  of  putting  a  big,  jovial  fellow,  who  was 
willing,  upon  the  cross.  He  was  attached  to  it  in  such  a 
way  as  to  make  believe  that  he  was  crucified ;  his  feet  and 
his  hands  having  previously  been  painted  scarlet.  He  had 
besides  a  female  friend,  whose  services  he  offered,  and  whom 
they  transformed  into  the  Virgin  Mary ;  both  were  prome- 
naded in  procession  as  far  as  the  church,  where  the  drama 
of  the  Passion  was  acted  in  naturalibus.  The  most  shock-r 
ing  part  of  the  thing  was  that  the  Virgin  was  to  the  knowl- 
edge of  all  the  mistress  of  the  one  who  represented  Christ! 

There  is  at  Guatemala  an  analogous  custom  at  the  epoch 
of  Holy  Week,  with  this  difference  only,  that  Judas  is  made 
to  appear.  They  generally  confide  the  part  to  an  Indian 
drunkard  or  idiot.  They  heap  upon  him  insults  and  bad 
treatment.  The  fury  of  the  people  hardly  knows  any  limits, 
and  he  becomes  an  object  of  execration ;  the  poor  J  udas  is 
generally  assassinated,  if  not  during  the  festival,  at  least  in 
the  following  year. 

Payta.  As  far  as  the  sight  can  extend  only  plains  of 
sand.  Extraordinary  aridity.  Not  a  blade  of  grass,  not  a 
tree.  This  grieves  the  heart — one  feels  as  in  the  presence 
of  a  cursed  land.  The  sun  lightens  up  and  brings  out  the 
sombre  tints  of  the  gorges  and  irregularities  of  the  ground. 
A  remarkable  phenomenon  is,  that  all  the  cliffs,  irregular  in 
their  capricious  forms,  are  level  at  their  summits,  and  form 
on  the  horizon  a  perfectly  horizontal  line.  It  never  rains 
here,  and  the  water  comes  from  the  interior  of  the  country. 
There  is  not  a  drop  of  it  for  ten  leagues  of  our  road,  it 
costs  in  town  one  dollar  a  load.  I  find  in  Bouillet  that 
Payta  is  in  the  middle  of  an  arid  plain !  What  then  does 
he  call  a  mountainous  country  ? 

Landed.  Misery  and  filth.  Five  or  six  streets  parallel 
to  the  shore  extend  for  almost  a  mile.  All  the  streets 
are  connected  with  each  other  by  narrow  alleys  two  feet 
in  width,  which  run  between  every  two  houses.  The 
houses  are  of  bamboos,  covered  with  macaw  trees.  The 
sides  are  covered  with  lime  which  fills  up  the  interstices 


408  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

between  the  bamboos.     The  sun  never  penetrates  into  the 
alleys  which  connect  the  streets  with  each  other. 

October  18,  1865. 

We  approach  the  coast  on  our  left ;  already  the  moun- 
tains which  were  confounded  with  the  clouds  on  the  hori- 
zon, are  clearly  visible.  The  activity  of  the  sailors  an- 
nounces that  we  shall  not  be  long  in  arriving.  They  are 
making  the  ship's  toilet,  one  polishes  the  oars,  another 
rubs  the  copper  stair-rods.  The  waiters  redouble  their 
zeal,  are  charmingly  gracious  toward  the  passengers 
(perquisites!).  These,  after  being  eclipsed,  reappear  one 
by  one  on  the  deck,  shaven,  fresh,  and  sprightly. 

It  is  at  the  moment  of  arrival  that  vanity  finds  a  place 
in  every  heart.  It  seems  that  every  one  wishes  to  make  up 
for  lost  time.  The  women  in  general  are  those  who  gain 
the  most  by  this  transformation.  The  slovenly  creature 
that  you  had  hardly  noticed  except  to  curse  the  effects  of 
sea-sickness  on  her,  from  a  chrysalis  has  changed  into  a 
butterfly.  She  is  born  again.  Ashamed  of  having  for  so 
long  a  time  concealed  their  charms  under  the  horrible 
restraint  of  the  least  poetic  of  all  ills,  the  women  clothe 
themselves  again  in  all  their  seductions,  like  a  warrior,  who 
having  just  received  a  check,  examines  his  arms  at  the  mo- 
ment of  returning  again  to  the  combat.  Besides  each  one 
is  desirous  of  making  herself  finer  than  her  companions. 

Sea-sickness  has  disappeared.  My  little  priest  becomes 
playful,  he  is  going  to  meet  his  family  again.  "  You  will 
see  Lima,"  he  said  to  me  in  the  fulness  of  his  joy  ;  "it  is 
magnificent,  marvellous,  and  as  for  the  women,  they  are 
certainly  the  prettiest  in  the  world." 

"  Get  out !  what  do  you  know  about  them,  my  dear 
fellow?"  replied  the  French  critic,  Mr.  Foumier,  who  did 
not  miss  any  opportunity  of  letting  fly  an  arrow  at  the 
V  poor  Abbe.  This  last  one  is  the  sharpest.  Placed  be- 
tween his  national  self-esteem,  which  excites  him  to  break 
a  lance  for  the  Peruvian  ladies,  and  his  gown  which  con- 
demns him  to  acknowledge  his  incompetence,  he  is  very 
much  annoyed.  For  spite,  he  betakes  himself  to  reading 
his  breviary.  Even  the  sixteen  sisters  have  taken  the 
contagion,  they  laugh,  lay  their  plans,  and  sing. 


CALLAO.  409 

The  land  appears  on  our  riffht ;  we  are  in  the  harbour. 
Before  us  a  forest  of  masts.  The  captain  at  the  bow  gives 
his  orders  in  a  sharp  voice.  Callao  has  no  wharf.  The 
vessels  anchor  at  some  distance  out.  We  are  passing  a 
superb  Spanish  frigate,  La  Numancia,  then  a  small 
monitor  constructed  in  Peru,  which  has  only  one  cannon, 
whose  engine  gets  out  of  order  every  time  they  use  it,  and 
which  makes  only  two  miles  an  hour,  but  which  has  not 
cost  less  than  two  million  five  hundred  thousand  francs. 
Some  Peruvian  soldiers  (negroes),  are  sleeping  or  smoking 
on  this  monstrous  shell.  They  have  red  pantaloons  ana 
blue  coats,  which  furnishes  an  opportunity  to  the  Abbe  to 
remark  that  the  Peruvian  army  is  as  well  disciplined  as 
the  French. 

We  cast  anchor.  The  port  is  covered  with  boats  which 
come  for  the  mails  and  passengers.  The  boat  of  the 
captain  of  the  port,  manned  by  three  or  four  Peruvian 
navy  officers,  in  gold,  resplendent,  pompous,  and  makers 
of  trouble,  accost  us. 

The  sisters  are  delighted.  They  just  now  see  two  white 
caps  in  a  boat  which  is  approachmg.  "  There  they  are, 
there  they  are,"  and  the  handkerchiefs  are  waving.  These 
are  without  doubt  some  sisters  whom  they  have  Known  in 
Europe.  They  weep  for  joy.  Is  it  a  long  time  since  you 
have  seen  them?  I  asked.  "We  do  not  know  them,  sir, 
but  they  are  Sisters  of  Charity."  Poor  girls!  It  is  the 
same  with  the  soldier  who  sees  again  the  uniform  of  his 
regiment. 

The  mails  are  with  great  trouble  got  out  of  the  hold. 
It  is  here  that  they  should  possess  the  method  and  order 
of  the  Yankees!  They  must  wait  two  hours  and  pay 
the  watermen  who  have  already  invaded  the  boat,  in  order 
to  get  them  out  of  the  hold.  'We  disembark.  Callao 
presents  nothing  remarkable.  A  great  many  negroes, 
Chinese,  and  Indians,  and  a  great  deal  of  filth.  We  have 
our  trunks  carried  to  the  railroad  station ;  the  train  runs 
from  Callao  to  Lima  in  half  an  hour. 

Four  dirty,  indolent  old  men  (these  are  the  custom- 
house officers)  examine  the  contents  of  our  trunks.  On 
seeing  that  I  have  five,  they  upset  the  first  and  examine 
it  minutely,  for  the  purpose,  a  person  said  to  me  who  was 
35 


410  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

looking  on,  to  tire  out  my  patience  and  obtain  a  gratuity 
in  order  to  spare  me  the  ennui  of  opening  the  others.  But 
they  had  their  trouble  for  their  pains,  and  the  Peruvian 
administration  owes  it  to  me  that  three  of  their  employes 
have  for  once  performed  their  duty  conscientiously.  An- 
other old  naan  keeps  himself  behind  a  negro  who  assures 
him  that  in  changing  his  piece  of  gold  he  has  given  him 
a  counterfeit. 

The  train  is  about  to  start,  and  I  have  not  yet  got  my 
ticket  for  my  baggage.  It  is  the  old  man  of  the  counter- 
feit coin,  whose  busmess  it  is  to  give  it,  but  he  seems  disposed 
for  the  moment  to  repose  upon  his  laurels,  the  discussion 
having  ended  to  his  advantage,  the  negro,  tired  of  war, 
having  given  up  the  field  of  battle,  carrying  off  his  counter- 
feit com. 

Finally  I  obtain  a  boleta  for  my  trunks,  and  I  get  into 
the  railroad  car.  The  carriages  are  like  the  European, 
that  is  to  say,  in  compartments  with  eight  seats  like  a 
coach.  There  are  first,  second,  and  third  class,  and  in  this 
the  Peruvians  are  more  advanced.  At  least  we  are  not  ex- 
posed to  the  rudeness  of  drunken  soldiers,  or  to  the  perilous 
neighbourhood  of  ragged  emigrants,  and  I  deduce  from  this 
that  in  Peru  the  fathers  of  families  are  almost  certain  that 
their  daughters  will  not  be  exposed,  like  those  of  the  United 
States,  to  hear  profane  expressions  or  ungenteel  conversa- 
tion. They  shut  us  up,  but  we  do  not  leave  until  half  an 
hour  afterwards.  "  Time  is  not  money"  here.  Everything 
is  nearly  finished  here,  and  it  seems  that  nobody  has  any- 
thing to  do  at  a  fixed  hour. 

At  the  station  at  Lima  we  wait  twenty  minutes,  and  a 
negro  gives  us  our  trunks,  which  a  carter  takes  to  the  hotel, 
a  few  steps  from  here,  for  the  modest  sum  of  four  dollars* 
I  had  already  paid  six  for  being  landed  (a  distance  of  a 
quarter  of  a  mile).  My  passage  has  cost  me  one  dollar,  my 
luggage  fifty  cents — ^total  eleven  dollars.  And  here  is  a 
nation  who  wonders  that  the  flow  of  emigration  does  not 
turn  toward  her  shores. 

Lima,  the  city  of  the  kings,  as  it  is  always  called  by  the 
old  Spanish  writers,  is  far  from  meriting,  from  its  appear- 
ance now,  this  pompous  title.  The  streets  are,  in  general, 
regular,  a,nd  cross  each  other  at  right  angles,  but  their 


FEMALE  DEVOTEES.  411 

filthiness  surpasses  all  imagination.  Piles  of  dirt,  animal 
carcasses,  and  all  sorts  of  rubbish  ferment  under  the  burning 
sun,  which  disengages  from  it  every  species  of  eflSuvium. 
The  gutters,  instead  of  being  alongside  of  the  pavements, 
are  placed  in  the  middle  of  tne  street,  and  are  truly  canals, 
three  and  four  feet  in  depth,  which  roll,  when  they  are  not 
stagnant,  their  poisonous  waves,  and  when  I  say  that  every- 
thing is  cast  into  these  open  drains,  any  one  can  understand 
that  the  air  of  the  city  of  the  kings  does  not  bring  to  mind 
the  roses  of  Provence. 

The  houses,  mostly  built  in  the  old  Spanish  style,  that  is 
to  say,  massive,  heavy,  and  gloomy,  are  generallv  preceded 
by  that  part  of  the  building  fronting  the  street  wnich  serves 
for  the  domestics.  Then  comes  a  court,  which  vaguely  re- 
calls, but  without  possessing  their  elegance,  the  Patio  of 
Andalusia.  The  dwelling  properly  so  called  is  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  court.  All  this  is  dusty,  dilapidated,  and  dirty. 
It  is  idleness,  apathy,  and  wretchedness  such  as  one  invari- 
ably finds  in  all  the  old  Spanish  colonies. 

The  principal  square  is  surrounded  by  arcades  or  porticoes, 
under  which  swarm  a  whole  crowd  of  merchants  who86 
booths  ai'e  filled  with  odds  and  ends.  One  side  of  the 
square  is  shut  in  by  the  cathedral,  the  architecture  of  which, 
being  of  the  composite  style  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
produces  a  good  enough  effect.  When  I  entered  it  for  the 
first  time,  it  was  in  the  morning ;  a  few  lonely  female  devotees 
were  performing  their  devotions.     Clothed  for  the  most 

Eart  with  the  traditional  veil,  which  they  wear  over  the 
ead  like  a  shroud,  they  recalled  to  me,  by  their  immobility, 
those  kneeling  statues  which  are  found  on  the  tombs  of  the 
middle  ages.  The  greater  part  have  made  a  vow,  some  to 
dress  all  m  white  for  a  year,  some  to  dress  like  a  Carmelite, 
some  in  blue,  these  generally  consecrated  to  the  Blessed 
Virgin.     The  effect  is  picturesque. 

The  organ  is  played  out  of  tune,  to  the  disgrace  of  all 
religious  propriety,  and  of  all  the  rules  of  music ;  notwith- 
standing all  the  efforts  of  its  torturer,  it  however  did  not 
succeed  in  breaking  the  charm  which  took  possession  of  me. 
The  chapels  still  deserted,  the  large  painted  wooden  saints 
standing  in  semi-obscurity,  twisting  themselves  into  the 
postures  of  their  martyrdom,  or  of  the  actions  representing 


412  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

the  miracles.  The  old  gildings  hidden  by  the  dust,  the 
aureoles  of  precious  stones,  ali  produce  a  singular  effect, 
which  without  giving  rise  to  religious  meditation,  favoured 
the  revery  of  a  traveller. 

I  had  read  in  the  guide  to  Lima  that  the  cathedral  pos- 
sessed a  large  picture  by  Murillo.  I  asked  the  sacristan  to 
point  it  out  to  me.  "  Murillo!"  said  he  to  me,  looking  at  me 
with  astonishment,  "I  do  not  know."  I  then  directed  my- 
self towards  a  priest,  who  had  at  least  the  appearance  of 
having  a  vague  idea  of  what  a  '  Murillo'  might  be,  but  he 
did  not  know  where  the  picture  was.  I  concluded  from 
this  (and  later  have  learned  that  I  was  not  mistaken)  that 
the  '  Murillo'  had  probably  been  sold  by  some  rapacious 
priest  who,  knowing  its  value,  appropriated  it  to  himself,  or 
that  it  might  have  oeen  exchanged  for  a  new  picture,  very 
glossy,  very  bright,  one  of  those  ignoble,  crude  daubs 
which  the  priests  of  South  America  (are  they  confined  to 
South  America  ?)  are  so  pleased  with. 

The  city  of  Lima,  the  seat  of  tlie  vice-royalty  of  Peru, 
was  founded  by  Francis  Pizarro  in  1535,  forty-two  years 
after  the  discovery  of  America. 

I  found  in  an  old  manuscript  the  following  document: — 

Schedule  of  the  most  invincible  Queen,  Madam  Jane, 
granted  to  the  Marquis  Francis  Pizarro,  who  has  been  and 
IS  governor  of  the  kingdoms  which  he  has  discovered  and 
of  which  he  may  hereafter  discover. 

Inasmuch  as  you,  Captain  F.  Pizarro,  residing  at  the 
mainland  called  Castilla  Deloro,  the  venerable  Father  Don 
Fernando  de  Luque,  dignitary  of  the  chapter  and  head 
master  of  the  Church  of  Dorieuse  de  Vacante,  which  is 
in  the  same  Castilla  Deloro,  and  Captain  Diego  de  Almago, 
inhabiting  the  city  of  Panama,  have  made  known  that 
you  and  your  companions,  for  the  purpose  of  serving  us 
and  for  the  good  of  our  royal  crown,  have,  for  five  years, 
more  or  less,  with  permission  and  authorization  of  Pedro 
Arias  de  Avila,  our  Governor  and  Captain-General  of  the 
said  mainland,  undertaken  to  conquer,  to  discover,  to  pacify, 
and  people  the  sea-coast  to  the  south  of  the  said  main- 
land, on  the  east,  the  whole  at  your  expense,  and  that  for 
this  purpose  you  and  your  companions  caused  to  be  made 
two  ships  and  a  brigantine,  in  which  enterprise  you  spent  a 


STREETS  OF  LIMA.  413 

large  sum  of  gold  pesos,  and  made  said  discoveries,  in  which 
you  have  suffered  many  accidents,  and  confronted  many 
perils  on  account  of  the  desertion  of  your  men,  who  aban- 
doned you  in  a  desert  island,  excepting  thirteen  men,  who 
were  not  willing  to  leave  you,  and  that  with  the  help  of  the 
sailors  and  people  which  Captain  Don  Dieeo  de  Almago 
offered  you,  passed  from  the  said  desert  island,  and  dis- 
covered the  said  lands  and  provinces  of  Peru  and  the  city 
of  Tumbez,  in  which  expedition  you  and  your  companions 
have  spent  more  than  thirty  thousand  pesos  of  gold ;  and 
that  with  the  desire  which  you  have  to  serve  us,  you  wish  to 
follow  up  the  said  conquest  and  populating  at  your  expense, 
without  our  ever  being  obliged  to  reimburse  you  the  ex- 
penses which  for  this  purpose  you  have  made  and  will  make, 
except  those  which  in  the  present  article  will  be  granted  to 
you,  and  that  you  prayed  and  requested  me  to  grant  you 
the  command  of  the  said  conquest,  and  to  grant  certain 
privileges:  I  ordain  that — 

Under  Captain  F.  de  Pizarro,  it  may  be  permitted  you 
to  continue  for  us,  and  in  the  name  of  our  royal  crown,  the 
said  conquest  of  discovery  and  population  of  the  said  pro- 
vince of  Peru,  as  far  as  the  distance  of  two  hundred  leagues, 
more  or  less,  from  the  coast,  starting  from  the  place  called 
in  the  Indian  tongue  Teninipuede,  and  which  you  have 
named  Santiago,  as  far  as  the  village  of  Chincha,  etc.  etc. 

Followed  by  a  score  of  clauses  m  which  Madam  Jane 
regulates  with  profuse  prolixity  of  style  and  scrupulous 
accuracy  all  the  details  of  this  curious  document. 


CHAPTER  XXVn. 

Lima. 

The  streets  of  Lima  are  paved  (?)  with  small  spherical 
stones,  upon  which  the  foot  can  never  be  placed  flat ;  you 
constantly  lose  your  balance,  and  your  feet  are  bruised  be- 
tween the  interstices  of  the  pebbles,  which  besides  are  not 
made  level.    The  ground  is  broken,  and  there  are  valleys ; 

35* 


414  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

you  on  a  sudden  feel  the  ground  slipping^  from  under  your 
feet,  and  you  save  yourself  with  a  shock  oy  the  "  gracia  de 
Dios."  Two  steps  further  on  you  stumble  and  strike  the 
point  of  your  foot  against  a  hard  obstacle — it  is  a  moun- 
tain. Then  the  gutters  flow  in  the  middle  of  the  streets, 
and  are  so  deep  that  they  are  crossed  at  intervals  by  nar- 
row bridges  of  stones.  There  are  no  scavengers  at  Lima — 
filth  is  simply  deposited  in  the  middle  of  the  streets,  but 
as  it  never  rains,  and  the  air  is  dry,  the  miasmata,  which 
our  moist  climates  wotild  engender,  are  here  unknown ;  be- 
sides myriads  of  great  vultures,  familiar  and  grand,  prome- 
nade the  streets,  doubtless  relying  on  the  severe  laws  which 
prohibit  them  from  being  killed,  and  take  upon  themselves 
the  cleansing  of  the  city,  and  perform  their  duty  wonder- 
fully well. 

I  will  take  upon  myself  respectfully  to  suggest  to  the 
municipal  authorities  of  New  York  the  importation  of  some 
thousands  of  these  winged  scavengers,  who  have  this  ad- 
vantage over  others  that  they  do  the  work  intrusted  to 
them,  and  cost  the  taxpayers  nothing. 

The  houses  are  one-story  high,  seldom  two,  on  account  of 
the  earthquakes.  The  architecture  is  Spanish,  that  is  to 
say,  heavy,  massive,  and  rude ;  the  walls  are  four  feet  thick. 
Immense  coach  gates  give  entrance  to  an  interior  court, 
which  generally  has  a  fountain  in  the  middle,  and  the 
dwelling  at  the  bottom.  These  are  often  of  Moorish  archi- 
tecture, elegant  and  fanciful  with  arabesques  painted  in 
bright  colours.  Hidden  behind  the  heavy  and  massive 
walls  which  conceal  them  from  the  sight  they  are  like  a 
jewel  in  its  casket. 

The  Maurin  Hotel  is  full.  The  refugees  from  Ecuador, 
just  now  in  revolution  (when  is  it  not:),  and  from  Chili, 
which  has  just  declared  war  against  Spain,  who  blockades 
all  her  ports,  fill  the  whole  of  the  hotels.  There  is  not  a 
room  left. 

I  set  out  again  with  the  cart  which  carries  my  trunks — 
Csesar  and  his  fortune — in  search  of  another  hotel.  I  obtain 
by  force  of  entreaties  a  den  in  a  corridor  for  the  night. 

It  decidedly  appears  that  I  could  not  have  chosen  a  more 
inopportune  moment  for  giving  concerts. 

The  rebels  are  six  leagues  from  the  city.    The  whole 


POLITIC  A  L  AFFAIRS  IN  PER  U.  415 

country  has  joined  them.  The  capital  alone  has  remained 
faithful  to  the  constitutional  president.  I  am  wrong  in 
saving  faithful ;  it  is  truer  to  say  that  he  still  occupies  it 
with  all  the  troops  which  he  has  concentrated  for  the  pur- 
pose of  resisting  the  enemy.  It  seems  singular  to  an 
American  that  the  whole  country  should  range  itself  under 
the  rebel  flag,  and  that  nevertheless  one  city  still  in  the 
power  of  the  government  should  be  sufficient  to  prevent 
the  triumph  of  the  rebellion.  One  battle  only,  iu  which 
the  latter  should  be  conquered,  would  suffice  for  the  re- 
establishment  of  order  (at  least  for  some  time),  civil  war 
being  the  normal  state  of  Peru. 

I  nave  tried  to  unravel  the  tangled  skein  of  political 
affairs  of  the  present  time.  This  is  what  I  understand 
about  it:  The  Spanish  government  claimed  from  Peru  three 
millions  for  damages  done  to  some  natives.  The  constitu- 
tional president  acceded,  on  the  consent  of  the  chambers,  to 
the  demands  of  Spain.  The  vice-president,  Senor  Al 
Canseco,  seized  this  pretext  for  accusing  the  government  of 
Peru  of  pusillanimity,  and  raised,  in  tne  name  of  the  out- 
raged national  honour,  the  standard  of  revolt.  He  was 
arrested.  Seeing  that  his  attempt  was  not  successful,  he 
promised  the  government  to  leave  the  country  if  they 
would  pay  him  the  arrears  of  his  account.  "Agreed,"  said 
Pezet  to  him,  who,  above  all  things,  wished  to  get  rid  of  a 
dangerous  coadjutor.  Once  the  dollars  were  pocketed,  Mr. 
Canseco  pretended  to  exile  himself,  disembarked  on  the 
coast  to  the  south,  and  raised  an  army. 

To  raise  an  army  against  the  government  is  in  Peru,  as 
in  all  the  other  Spanish  republics,  an  easy  matter.  To  be 
in  power  is  to  draw  handsful  out  of  the  coffers  of  the  State. 
A  party  triumphs ;  the  cure  is  ready,  "  Myself  president," 
"  you  general ;"  but  as  all  the  soldiers  cannot  be  generals, 
and  aU  the  generals  presidents,  the  friends  of  yesterday 
become  the  enemies  of  to-morrow.  "  Get  out  of  there !"  is 
the  motto  of  all  politicians  in  general,  but  of  the  Peruvians 
in  particular. 

Corruption  reigns  everywhere.  The  government  is  a 
milch-cow — ^all  milk  her.  An  officer  lately  assured  me  that 
the  scale  of  superior  officers  and  generals  of  Peru  corre- 
sponds to  an  army  of  eight  hundred  thousand  men !  and 


416  NOTES'  OF  A  PIANIST. 

they  have  hardly  twenty  thousand  troops  in  time  of  war! 
Out  of  four  men,  two  are  officers  and  the  others  are 
clerks — all  live  on  the  government.  A  successful  revo- 
lution is  a  see-saw  movement.  One-half  of  the  country 
rises  into  power,  whilst  the  other  falls  from  it.  A  revo- 
lution takes  place:  one-half  of  the  country  is  without 
employment.  This  gives  rise  to  a  conspiracy,  and  the  first 
ambitious  comer  finds  the  elements  all  prepared.  Every 
employe  steals ;  the  government,  in  pocketing  what  ought 
to  go  into  the  State  treasury,  robs  her  creditors,  because 
she  spernds  always  more  than  she  gains.  The  colonels 
receive  three  hundred  and  sixty  dollars  per  month,  and 
spend  one  thousand  dollars.  Besides  the  gratuities  in 
money  which  they  receive  from  the  general  whom  they 
have  assisted  in  climbing  into  power,  they  gain  a  consider- 
able revenue  in  the  following  manner:  Their  battalion 
consists  of  six  hundred  men ;  they  have  in  reality  only  four 
hundred  and  fifty  men,  and  receive  pay  for  six  hundred 
men.  In  the  cavalry  it  is  more  profitable  on  account  of 
the  horses.  A  colonel  of  cavalry  makes  here  a  small  for- 
tune by  selling  the  horses  of  his  regiment.  The  fraud  can 
never  be  discovered  on  account  of  this  peculiarity,  that,  in 
time  of  peace,  the  horses  of  the  regiment  are  put  out  to 
pasture  near  the  city.  Our  colonel  pockets  not  only  the 
price  of  the  horses,  but  also  that  of  their  forage,  which  the 
government  allows  him  for  the  imaginary  horses.    Does  a 

feneral  arrive  ?  Does  a  review  taKe  place  ?  The  colonel 
orrows  for  the  'arrieros'  from  the  horse-merchants,  and  on 
the  day  of  the  review  he  presents  his  regiment  fully  filled 
up,  and  receives  the  felicitations  of  his  general  on  the  fine 
condition  of  his  troops,  and  continues  his  little  trade  with 
impunity.  In  the  infantry,  as  it  is  not  as  easy  to  borrow 
men  as  horses,  to  fill  up  the  deficiencies  the  colonels  enroll 
by  force  the  men  of  whom  they  have  need.  And  this  is 
the  way  it  is  done:  Two  or  three  confidential  soldiers 
promenade  the  streets ;  they  see  an  Indian ;  they  approach 
him ;  one  of  them  garrotes  him  behind,  whilst  the  other 
throws  over  him  a  military  cloak  and  places  on  his  head 
a  cap.  They  cry  out  that  he  is  a  deserter,  and  carry  him 
off,  tied  up  like  a  sausage,  to  the  '  Cuartal.'  Recruitin^^ 
for  the  army  is  not  done  in  any  other  way.     They  send 


ARROGANCE  OF  THE  MILITARY.  417 

some  soldiers  into  the  country,  and  they  seize  by  force  the 
poor  Indians,  tear  them  from  their  families,  and  lead  them, 
tied,  like  the  beads  of  a  rosary,  to  a  long  rope  held  at  each 
end  by  a  soldier. 

The  arrogance  of  the  military  is  insupportable.  Their 
insolence  and  their  haughtiness  are  only  equalled  by  their 
folly.  Overwhelmed  with  debts,  they  would  not  find 
credit  anywhere  if  they  did  not  now  and  then  take  care  to 
pay  something  on  account  to  their  creditors.  This  is  the 
way  the  thing  is  managed  (it  is  a  Frenchman,  a  dealer  in 
military  equipments,  who  relates  it  to  me) :  A  colonel,  I 
suppose,  owes  eighty  dollars  for  a  pair  of  epaulets.  He 
comes  to  bring  you  twenty  dollars  on  account,  and  buys  a 
bicorne  which  is  worth  thirty  dollars,  which  he  has  placed 
to  his  account.  The  account  always  increases,  and  the 
merchant  who  receives  on  account  does  not  dare  to  refuse 
credit  to  his  customer  for  fear  of  losing  both  the  account 
and  the  principal. 

A  poor  French  tailor  who  had  given  credit  to  the  ofiicers 
of  Pezet,  at  his  fall  was  in  for  six  hundred  thousand  francs 
and  was  ruined. 

A  colonel  went  to  a  Frenchman  to  purchase  ten  thousand 
francs'  worth  of  furniture  on  credit.  The  Frenchman 
refused.  The  colonel  said  haughtily  to  him,  "Ah  ha!  do 
you  take  me  for  one  of  those  JFrench  beggars  or  foreign 
adventurers?  a  pitiful  sum  often  thousand  francs!  I  spend 
it  for  bonbons!"  "The  greater  reason,"  the  poor  man 
humbly  replied  to  him,  "  for  not  giving  you  credit." 

A  Bolivian  colonel  had  an  account  with  a  French  coffee- 
house keeper,  which  had  become  so  large  that  the  latter 
was  not  willing  to  give  him  further  credit.  The  colonel 
gave  his  sword  to  him,  and  as  the  sword  was  worth  more 
than  the  sum  due,  the  coffee-house  keeper  gave  him  the 
balance  in  trade.  The  sword  remained  a  year  at  the 
coffee-house  keeper's,  and  as  the  colonel  had  no  other  he 
went  to  the  reviews  without  any,  which  did  not  prevent 
him,  however,  from  being  as  proud  as  Artabanus. 

If  things  however  go  badly  in  Peru,  what  shall  I  say 
of  Bolivia?  Wlien  the  liberator  Bolivar  cut  from  the 
map  the  territory  of  each  of  the  nations  which  his  vic- 
torious sword  carved  out  from  the  captain-generals   of 


418  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

Spanish  America,  he  assigned  to  Bolivia,  it  is  true,  an 
immense  extent  thereof,  but  he  forgot  to  give  to  it  any 
sea-coast.  Shut  in,  suftbcated  between  Peru  on  the  west 
and  the  Argentine  Republic  on  the  east,  Bolivia  felt  ill 
at  ease.  The  only  opening  she  had  towards  the  sea  was 
the  little  port  of  Cobija.  She  longed  for  the  tongue  of 
earth  (the  Peruvian  sea-coast)  which  runs  into  its  territory 
and  robs  it  of  its  coast.  This  is  the  cause  of  the  war 
between  Bolivia  and  Peru.  The  actus^l  president,  Mezarijo, 
a  Cholo,  is  a  ferocious  beast,  a  drunkard,  who  hangs, 
shoots  down,  kills,  massacres,  etc.  A  soldier  of  fortune, 
his  education  has  been  that  of  the  barracks.  He  lately 
cut  off  with  one  blow  of  an  axe  the  arm  of  his  favourite 
aid-de-camp. 

Pebu. 

"  To  catch  a  bird  put  some  salt  on  his  tail,"  they  used  to 
tell  me  when  I  was  a  child.  The  Peruvians  believe  in 
this  absurd  recipe.  When  you  speak  to  them  about  public 
schools  they  reply  to  you,  "  Peru  is  yet  too  young."  "  No 
religious  liberty,"  they  exclaim  with  terror.  "  God  pro- 
tect us  from  it!  our  people  are  still  too  ignorant;  wait  until 
they  have  attained  civilization"  (as  well  might  they  say 
that  you  must  wait  until  you  have  learned  to  swim  before 
taking  a  bath). 

With  us  a  railroad  is  made  between  two  villages,  in 
order  that  they  may  become  cities.  In  Peru  they  con- 
struct a  line  of  railroad  when  the  two  villages  have 
become  cities.  Civilization  finds  every  avenue  among 
them  closed.  Among  all  other  nations  the  doors  are 
opened  to  her.  In  Peru  she  must  gain  possession  of  them 
by  force.  Every  innovation  has  to  fight  against  prejudice. 
The  smallest  things  which  are  not  recommended  by  their 
decrepitude  are  ostracised.  The  business  of  foreigners  in 
Peru  is  observing  her  progress,  the  Peruvians  go  back- 
wards, and  progress  hardly  obtains  the  swiftness  of  the 
tortoise. 

I  said  the  other  day  in  a  moment  of  anger  (with  more 
truth  than  politeness),  "  If  your  desire  to  see  all  the  foreigners 
leave  your  country  was  gratified,  before  fifty  years  you 


UNBRIDLED  CORRUPTION,  419 

would  return  to  your  national  costume — ^nothing  but 
feathers." 

Their  hatred  for  foreigners  is  rooted  in  their  heart,  in- 
fused into  their  blood. 

There  is  not  a  point  in  the  Peruvian  character  in  which 
you  do  not  find  the  gangrene  of  venality,  of  iajnorance,  of 
corruption,  of  sloth,  and  of  boasting.  The  pachas  of  Asia 
Minor  have  not  a  more  despotic  power  in  the  midst  of 
the  eunuchs  of  their  harems,  and  the  unfortunate  fellahs  of 
their  fields,  than  that  which,  from  the  highest  to  the 
lowest  in  the  military  scale,  is  exercised  by  the  epauletted 
janissaries  who  govern  Peru.  The  Peruvian  government 
is  and  has  always  been  a  military  oligarchy  more  oppres- 
sive, more  brutal,  and  more  arbitrary  than  the  autocracy 
of  Russia  will  ever  be.  Their  good  pleasure,  this  is  the 
law  which  governs,  and  every  goose,  turkey,  peacock, 
cock,  capon,  or  eagle,  from  the  marshal  to  the  lieutenant, 
wearing  a  sword,  proclaims  this  law  supreme,  and  rules 
like  a  despot. 

The  most  unbridled  corruption  in  every  branch  of 
government,  the  most  shameless  venality  among  all  classes, 
everything  is  sold,  everything  is  bought.  Sloth,  ignorance, 
and  hatred  of  the  foreigner,  these  are  the  only  beliefs 
profoundly  rooted  in  the  heart  of  this  race,  debauched 
physically  and  morally.  Sad  spectacle!  And  is  this 
what  the  United  States  should  risk  their  soldiers,  their 
navy,  their  military  honour,  and  their  millions  for?  lSo\ 
a  thousand  times  no!  Take  all  the  Spanish  Americas 
and  examine  their  governments. 

!N"iCARAGUA,  composed  of  negroes,  Indians,  and  mulattoes, 
is  governed  by  an  is^iorant  and  barbarous  clergy,  sup- 
ported by  some  imbecile  sabres. 

Guatemala,  suffocated  in  the  blood  and  the  murmurs 
which  proceed  from  an  oppressed  people,  permits  itself  to  be 
organized  hj  the  clergy  with  the  obsequiousness  of  a  con- 
quered province. 

Honduras  and  Salvador  are  supernumerary  subalterns, 
who,  as  in  gloomy  dramas,  show  themselves  when  there  is 
some  assassmation  or  strangling  to  be  committed. 


420  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

Costa  Rica  is  the  only  one  of  these  republics  that  meets 
the  sympathy  of  honest  men  on  account  of  the  efforts  which 
she  is  making  to  enter  into  the  paths  of  civilization. 

Ecuador  belongs  to  the  clergy  and  the  sword. 

Peru  has  this  at  least  in  its  favour,  that  it  is  not  sangui- 
nary, and  that  in  its  revolutions,  except  the  soldiers  killed 
in  battk,  history  has  never  registered  those  bloody  proscrip- 
tions which  sully  and  dishonour  the  next  day  of  every  new 
government  in  the  neighbouring  republics. 

Bolivia  is  governed  by  a  mulatto  Indian,  who  calls 
himself  provisional  constitutional  president,  although  he  had 
killed,  with  his  own  hands,  the  lawful  president,  and  will 
continue  to  be  provisionally  constitutional  until  his  natural 
death,  unless  some  other  assassin  in  turn  kills  him,  to 
occupy  provisionally  and  constitutionally  his  place. 

The  Republic  of  Paraguay  is  governed  by  an  hereditary 
president  for  life  (?) — ^a  republic ! 

And  these  are  the  people  who  cry  out  against  monarchy, 
whilst  they  submit  to  the  most  frightful  autocracy  and 
accommodate  themselves  to  it  because  Lopez  II.,  their 
actual  tyrant,  instead  of  calling  himself  sultan,  calls  himself 
hereditary  president  for  life.  Is  this  not  comical  to  the  last 
degree?  It  is  absolutely  like  the  bourgeois  gentilhomme, 
who  was  not  a  merchant  (shame  on  him)  but  who  purchased 
merchandise  for  the  purpose  of  exchanging  it  with  his 
friends  for  money. 

Midnight,  November  3. 

Battle  of  Lima. 

Nevertheless  what  happy  moments  passed  at  Lima!  Of 
all  those  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  them,  my  friend  Du- 
peyron  is  certainly  at  the  head  of  the  list. 

This  evening  some  friends  met  together.  I  played  the 
eternally  beautiful  *  Benediction  des  Poignanis.'  This 
thundering  discharge  of  lyric  electricity,  as  Berlioz  said 
somewhere,  excited  all  my  good  French  friends,  who  leaped 
upon  their  chairs  as  much  on  account  of  the  music  as  for 
the  souvenirs  which  it  evoked  of  their  country. 

Mr.  Dupeyron  receives  a  letter,  "  Are  there  news  of  the 
revolution  ?    I  said  laughingly  to  him.     "  Yes,  read." 

The  letter  is  from  an  officer  at  the  camp  (the  president's), 


FIGHTING.  421 

who  assertfl  that  the  two  armies  are  at  the  distance  of  a 
kilometre  fix)m  each  other.  The  fight  will  take  place  to- 
night or  to-morrow  morning.  The  letter  ended  more 
piously  than  heroically : — 

"  I  recommend  my  soul  to  God,"  said  the  officer.  Mr. 
Dupeyron  assures  me  that  this  brave  man  is  one  of  the 
least  brave  that  he  knows. 

November  6,  4  o'clock  in  the  morniDg. 

Started  up  awakened  by  a  noise.  Firmin,  my  factotum, 
calls  me.  "They  are  fighting,  sir,"  he  calls  out  to  me. 
Indeed  firing  succeeded  rapidly  in  opposite  directions.  It 
approached.  The  whole  house  is  aroused.  The  battle,  if 
it  takes  place,  will  be  under  our  windows,  for  at  the  cor- 
ner of  our  street,  that  is  to  say,  at  the  distance  of  twenty 
yards,  is  the  square,  or  palace  of  the  government  and  the 
municipality,  which  occupies  two  sides  of  the  square.  The 
discharge  of  musketry  increases.  A  cannon  shot.  Are 
these  the  revolutionary  troogs?  Is  it  the  people  who  have 
risen  and  attempt  to  hold  put  in  garrison  ?  Is  it  only  a 
revolutionary  division,  which  shall  have  made  a  movement 
and  placed  l^ezet  between  the  fires  ?  We  are  not  able  to 
find  out  anything.  The  trumpets  in  the  distance  are  sound- 
ing the  charge.  It  is  a  division  that  is  entering  the  city  at 
a  running  gait.  The  drums  and  the  trumpets  are  sounding 
the  charge  and  they  pass  like  an  avalanche  before  our  win- 
dows. Dupeyron  has  seen  them,  and  by  their  white  hats 
has  recognized  the  revolutionary  troops. 

The  night  is  magnificent,  the  silence  profound.  ISot  a 
bell  is  heard,  every  church  is  guarded  by  a  picket  of  sol- 
diers, and  in  each  clock  tower  they  have  posted  men  upon 
whose  fidelity  they  can  rely. 

Sharp  discharges  of  musketry.  They  are  fighting  on  the 
square.  The  government  troops  have  repulsed  the  column 
wnich  we  saw  go  bjr  just  now.  A  battery  of  artillery  is 
placed  under  our  wmdows.  I  can  no  longer  resist  my  de- 
sire to  see.  Concealed  behind  the  blinds,  I  look  down  into 
the  street.  It  is  occupied  by  a  compact  crowd  of  soldiers 
of  the  revolution,  horsemen,  covered  with  large  red  ponchos, 
with  large  round  white  hats  on  their  heads,  pell  mell  and 
immovable  as  statues.  All  at  once  a  discharge  of  artillery ; 
36 


422  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST, 

cries,  oaths,  a  furious  tempest.  In  the  gloom  I  see  a  whole 
world  of  phantoms,  striving  in  the  midst  of  a  deafening  up- 
roar, which  rises  from  time  to  time  above  the  loud  noise  of 
the  cannon  mingled  with  the  rattling  discharges  of  mus- 
ketry. 

A  squadron  of  cavalry  debouches  on  the  square.  They 
are  received  with  a  discharge  of  musketry.  For  some 
moments  I  hear  very  near  me  little  whistlings,  like  the 
noise  of  a  switch  beating  the  air. 

A  little  like  the  ostrich,  intrenched  behind  my  blinds,  I 
am  impassible  in  the  midst  of  the  melee.  Puff!  a  dull  noise 
very  near  me  awakens  me  to  the  reality,  and  warlike  pro- 
pensities vanish  before  the  instinctive  feeling  of  self-pre- 
servation. It  is  a  ball  which  has  lodged  in  the  balcony. 
A  moment  after  I  risk  looking  out  again.  The  wounded 
are  numerous  and  cover  the  pavement. 

Who  has  won  ?  Who  has  lost  ?  No  one  will  ever  under- 
stand our  suspense.  A  bell ! !  the  tocsin  is  ringing.  The 
church  has  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  rebels,  who,  per- 
haps, are  so  no  longer  at  this  time,  the  way  in  which  things 
go  in  this  unfortunate  country. 

The  shrieks  and  tumult  under  our  windows  are  horrible. 
It  is  a  hand-to-hand  fight.  The  clashing  of  swords  and  the 
cries  of  those  who  fall  are  only  heard :  "  Jesus,  Maria, 
Dios !"  Dupeyron  prepares  down  stairs  in  the  apothecarj^'s 
shop  charpie,  mattresses,  etc.,  for  it  is  probable  that  they 
will  open  or  force  the  door  in  a  few  moments.  The  only 
fear  which  we  have  at  this  time,  besides  accidents,  spent 
balls,  or  stray  bombs,  is  that  Pezet  is  not  victorious,  and 
does  not  return  to  Lima  to  dislodge  the  besieging  column. 
The  troops  at  the  palace  behave  bravely.  They  have  not 
yielded  an  inch.  It  really  requires  heroism  to  fight  with- 
out a  flag,  without  the  word  of  command — ^blindly ;  for, 
like  ourselves,  they  do  not  know  if  Pezet  is  conquered,  or 
if  they  are  fighting  sixty  thousand  men  or  a  column. 

Six.  o'clock. 

The  battle  continues.  The  balls  fly  and  are  flattened  on 
a  salient  part  of  the  wall  alongside  of  the  house.  The 
children  are  taken  from  the  rooms  which  are  fronting  the 
street,  and  the  whole  household — negroes,  mulattoes,  cholos 


WHAT  A  SAD  SPECTACLE!  428 

included^ — seek  shelter  in  the  parlour  which  is  at  the  rear 
of  the  house.  The  cries  of  triumph  are  drawing  near ;  the 
discharge  of  musketry  ceases.  I  place  myself  again  in  the 
balcony,  still,  like  the  ostrich,  behind  my  blinds,  and  I 
see  a  strange,  charming,  indescribable  sight.  It  is  at  the 
same  time  a  fairy  dream  and  a  nightmare.  A  band  of 
Indian  musicians  blowing  on  horns  a  sort  of  savage  flourish, 
composed  of  four  low  notes  which  always  follow  in  the 
same  order,  advance  running;  behind  it  a  long  file  of 
Indian  soldiers  in  red  pantaloons  and  round  hats  like  a 
turban.  They  are  the  cholos  of  Cauzeco.  The  v  go  by  like 
an  avalanche  without  any  impediment,  in  the  midst  of 
frantic  acclamations  from  a  crowd  of  amateur  cholos  on 
horseback,  who  encumber  the  pavements,  and  appear  dis- 
posed to  lend  them  a  helping  hand. 

Ten  minutes  of  silence,  disturbed  at  great  intervals  with 
single  musket  shots. 

Half-past  six  o^clock. 

Bang!  A  cannon  shot.  Bang,  bang — piflT,  puflT.  The 
battle  has  recommenced  most  beautifully. 

The  brave  government  troops  have  commenced  fightinff 
again.  The  cannonade  is  redoubled.  Our  street  is  a  field 
of  battle.  The  tocsin  sounds.  The  sun  rises.  I  go  again 
to  take  my  position  behind  my  blinds.  Two  cannons  are 
levelled  before  our  door  against  the  palace.  The  brave 
troops  will  not  yield.  Wnat  a  sad  spectacle!  A  poor 
cholo  stands  in  a  doorway,  leaning  upon  his  gun ;  he  has 
around  him  a  sea  of  blood ;  his  wound  must  be  serious,  for 
the  blood  continues  to  flow  and  the  pool  to  enlarge.  "  0 
charite  Ghretienne !  ou  §tes  vous  et  ose  t'on  bien  invoquer 
Dieu  en  faisant  la  guerre  ?"  (0  Christian  charity !  where 
art  thou,  and  do  we  mdeed  dare  to  invoke  God  in  making 
war  ?) 

I  can  see  half  of  the  square  through  the  opening  of  our 
street,  which  opens  into  the  middle  of  it  before  the  gate  of 
the  palace.  There  is  a  heap  of  slain.  The  revolutionists  are 
in  ambush  behind,  and  are  firing.  They  have  got  on  top 
of  the  roof  of  the  Hotel  Maurin,  and  are  shooting.  A 
soldier  whose  cartridges  have  given  out  spies  the  dead 
body  on  the  pavement  opposite;   he  searches  him  after 


424  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

having  filled  his  cartridge-box.  A  little  gamin  (raga- 
muflin),  who  comes  from  the  scene  of  action  (the  type  of 
the  gamin  is  found  even  among  the  cholos  of  Peru),  walks 
around  the  dead  body  and  loots  at  the  robbing  operation. 
Afterwards,  being  satisfied  that  no  person  sees  him,  he 
approaches  the  corpse,  and,  under  pretext  of  looking  at  the 
wound — di,  musket  wound  in  the  forehead — stakes  oft'  its 
cape,  and  I  see  him  quietly  put  it  into  his  pocket,  crying 
out  at  the  same  time,  "Vive  la  revolucion!"  and  go  skip- 
ping off". 

The  firing  is  against  the  palace;  a  breach  is  opened. 
They  nevertheless  still  defend  themselves.  At  a  distance 
we  see  troops  which  are  advancing.  It  is  a  revolutionary 
division,  who  have  been  marching  for  eleven  hours,  and 
who  have  succeeded  in  turning  Pezet's  right.  At  the  head 
march  the  bugles  and  drums ;  almost  aU  are  in  uniform ; 
but  the  greater  part  have  no  shoes.  All  wear  a  piece  of 
white  cloth  on  the  kepi,  a  rallying  sign,  so  as  not  to  be 
mistaken  for  the  government  troops  whose  uniform  is  the 
same.  All  are  Indians,  well  made,  but  small,  the  identical 
type  of  the  Egyptians.  Many  of  them  are  mounted  on 
asses,  and  accompany  the  drums  on  a  sort  of  cymbal.  They 
all  pass  on  to  the  square,  but,  as  the  cannon  of  the  palace 
enfilades  the  whole  street,  they  are  ranged  in  two  files, 
which  occupy  the  pavement,  two  men  abreast.  The  com- 
bat begins  again  more  fiercely  than  ever— ^as  soon  as  the 
fresh  troops  debouche  on  the  square.  All  at  once  a  general, 
accompanied  by  an  escort  of  black  cuirassiers— doublv 
black,  for  they  are  negroes,  and  their  cuirass  is  of  blact 
iron,  announces  that  the  revolution  has  triumphed. 

Then,  as  if  by  enchantment,  all  the  windows,  balconies, 
dormer-windows,  the  roofs,  and  the  doors  are  filled  by  the 
curious.  They  are  nevertheless  still  fighting  at  the  palace. 
The  cannon  is  all  the  time  thundering.  A  ball  has  just 
flattened  itself  above  my  head.     I  keep  it  as  a  relic. 

They  begin  to  carry  off"  the  wounded.  An  unfortunate 
soldier,  whose  foot  has  been  bruised  by  a  bullet,  drags  him- 
self painfully  along  on  all  fours  to  get  out  of  the  fray.  He 
leaves  a  long  train  of  blood  after  him.  So  far  they  have 
carried  all  the  wounded  to  the  military  field  hospitals,  but 
at  this  moment  somebody  knocks,  and  leaning  over  the  bal- 


THE  POOR  DYING  MAN.  425 

cony,  I  see  three  Indian  soldiers  seriously  wounded,  which 
they  are  carrying  on  woolen  blankets  held  at  the  cor- 
ners by  four  assistants.  The  interior  court  is  square,  and 
from  the  balcony,  which  at  the  first  story  surrounds  it,  our 
eyes  look  down  upon  a  heart-rending  spectacle.  Of  the 
tnree  Indians,  one  has  his  two  thiehs  pierced  by  a  ball. 
He  will  recover  from  it.  The  second,  a  very  young  Indian, 
has  received  two  musket  wounds  in  the  abdomen ;  he  suf- 
fers horribly  and  utters  groans.  A  photographer,  one  of  our 
friends,  a  Parisian  joker,  one  of  those  impious  miscreants 
who  believes  in  nothing,  has  never  ceased  boasting  about 
nursing  and  fondling  the  wounded,  and  particularly  this 

Eoor  (^'ing  man ;  he  gently  scolds  him,  and  calls  out  to 
im,  placing  himself  at  a  carry  arms,  "  Soldado  Peruano 
Valiento!"  the  only  Spanish  words  which  the  cholo  under- 
stands. "  Si!  Si"  (yes,  yes),  said  the  latter  trying  proudly 
to  stand  up  again,  "Soldado  valiento!"  and  vaguely  rolling 
his  eyes,  already  dimmed  by  the  approach  of  death,  he 
soothes  for  an  instant  his  pains  in  a  sentiment  of  national 
pride. 

The  third  has  a  broken  leg.  They  are  all  lying  on  the 
straw,  which  has  been  spread  all  over  the  court  in  anticipa- 
tion of  the  wounded. 

Dupeyron,  a  brave  and  worthy  soul,  his  assistant,  the 
whole  household,  the  women  (need  I  say  it,  for  charity  is 
she  not  feminine?)  are  everywhere.  The  unfortunate 
creatures  from  whom  they  extract  the  balls  suffer  with  a 
stoicism  only  to  be  found  among  the  Indians.  They  follow 
with  their  eyes  the  movements  of  the  doctor,  and  endeavour 
to  learn  from  his  expression  the  gravity  of  their  wounds. 
From  time  to  time  they  heave  a  sigh  and  murmur  these 
touching  words,  which,  in  their  language,  would  express 
"  Ah !  little  father,  I  love  thee"  (tay-tay  mira  to  quiero). 
The  Indian  wounded  in  the  abdomen  is  dead.  The  court 
is  so  full  that  they  have  already  had  to  use  his  body  as  a 
pillow  for  the  new  comers.  "  Go  and  get  some  of  the  fathers 
at  St.  Domingo,"  said  Dupeyron  in  the  ear  of  a  cholo,  who 
was  consoling^  his  wounded  friend,  which  is  the  same  as 
saying  that  there  are  many  dying. 

36* 


426  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

10  o^clock  A.M. 

A  young  Indian,  who  received  a  ball  in  his  left  breast,  is 
dying.  I  stop  a  monk  in  the  passage  before  the  door  and 
make  him  come  in.  Squatting  on  the  straw  he  confesses 
the  dying  man  in  the  Indian  dialect.  An  oflBcer  has  been 
shot  through  the  head.     He  died  in  a  few  minutes. 

The  palace  was  taken,  after  the  besiegers  had  set  it 
on  fire.  The  unfortunate  Celadores  have  surrendered.  I 
need  not  say  (0  people !)  that  once  inside,  the  conquerors 
commenced  by  massacring  the  vanquished,  then  in  sacking 
everything.  The  library,  the  mirrors,  the  furniture,  every- 
thing has  been  broken  and  burned.  A  soldier  timidly 
made  the  ^  remark  that  all  these  things  did  not  belong  to 
the  vanquished  but  to  the  nation,  ana  that  it  was  at  least 
superfluous  to  destroy  it.  He  paid  for  his  good  sense  in  the 
midst  of  the  brutal  intoxication,  for  his  oflicer  cut  off  his 
hand  with  one  blow  of  his  sword. 

The  terrace  of  the  palace  is  covered  with  the  dead.  From 
our  house  we  can  distinguish  the  uniforms  of  the  corpses. 
Colonel  Pamarra  was  assassinated  after  he  had  surrendered, 
as  also  the  commandant  of  the  Celadores,  the  intendant, 
and  many  other  superior  oflScers. 

It  is  not  one  division,  but  the  whole  army  of  Canseco, 
which  has  entered  Lima.  They  have  deceived  the  vigi- 
lance of  Pezet,  have  turned  his  right  and  have  entered, 
leaving  him  behind  them,  when  he  was  thinking  he  had 
them  m  his  front.  Gomez  Sanchez  has  saved  himself;  his 
energy  is  such  that  he  has  rejoined  Pezet,  and  will  decide 
him  to  come  and  attack  and  dislodge  the  revolutionists. 
This  night's  battle  is  then  only  the  prelude  of  the  tragedy. 
Pezet  has  ten  thousand  fresh  troops  and  forty-six  cannons 
of  large  calibre.  As  soon  as  he  shall  discover  that  Lima 
has  surrendered  and  that  the  revolutionists  are  behind  him, 
he  will  attack  the  city.  Generals  Balta  and  Prado  scour 
the  streets  with  numerous  escorts  of  cavalry.  They  are 
Indians,  officers,  negroes,  with  white  ponchos  with  wide 
bands  of  red,  violet,  and  black,  blue  and  green,  standards  of 
all  colours,  arms  of  all  kinds,  from  the  lance  to  the  flint- 
lock pistol.  The  Monteneros  have  muskets  and  make  a 
very  fine  appearance,  covered  to  the  thighs  with  the  poncho, 


SCREAMS  OF  THE  WOUNDED.  427 

large  hats  with  white  bands  and  a  sort  of  swivel  (tromblon) 
on  the  thigh. 

They  are  placing  platoons  of  calvary  twenty  paces  apart 
through  the  principal  streets.  All  the  churches  are  ring- 
ing the  tocsin.  It  is  evident  that  the  victorious  troops  are 
expecting,  andnotwithout  alarm,  to  be  attacked  by  the  army 
of  Pezet.  A  thousand  horsemen  pass  at  a  gallop  like  a 
whirlwind.  It  is  fantastic,  marvellous,  unheard  of,  savage. 
They  are  the  negro  cuirassiers,  with  dirty  faces,  their  uni- 
forms gray  with  dust,  a  large  sort  of  swivel  across  their 
saddles.  Lancers  with  violet  streamers.  Chasseurs  on 
horseback,  then  the  Monteneros  with  scarlet  ponchos,  apple 
green,  sky  blue ;  all  these  yelling,  rushing  along,  brandish- 
ing their  swords,  with  the  stamping  of  the  horses,  etc. 

The  screams  of  our  poor  wounded  become  deafening, 
there  are  already  twenty-nine  of  them,  and  they  are  con- 
stantly bringing  more  in.  The  corpses  cannot  remain  here 
the  whole  nignt.  The  wounds  are  gangrenous,  and  the 
court  being  covered  with  glass  all  the  emanations  for 
want  of  air  rise  into  our  chambers.  The  odour  of  the 
blood  is  already  sickening. 

The  whole  army  of  Cauzeco  defiles.  After  the  i*egular 
cavalry  follow  the  free  squadrons  of  Monteneros.  A 
multitude  of  large  green,  yellow,  and  blue  flags ;  then  a 
regiment  of  Indians  "  in  bail  cloth,"  the  uniform  has  a 
singular  effect.  Old  Polish  bonnets  of  the  empire,  of  can- 
vas, also  grayish-white.  The  music  of  this  regiment 
consists  of  little  tin  flutes,  which  play  a  very  quick  rhythm 
in  a  minor  key,  at  a  quick-step  with  a  bass-drum  accom- 
paniment. Another  regiment  of  Indians,  musical  instru- 
ments of  copper — barbarous,  fantastic  uniforms,  arms  the 
same.  A  squadron  of  Indians  irregularly  armed  with 
lances,  long  flint  muskets,  some  brandishing  large  axes. 
Their  features  make  one  shiver  to  look  at  them.  Nothing 
more  truly  savage  than  all  these  tattered  wretches,  the 
whole  in  coloured  rags.  Behind  comes  a  squadron  of 
armed  ravonas,  wives  of  the  Indian  soldiers,  who  follow 
their  husbands  everywhere  and  ride  astride ;  one  of  them 
has  a  parrot  solemnly  seated  on  her  shoulder.  None  of  the 
soldiers  wear  shoes,  nothing  but  sandals. 

We  would  like  to  send  our  wounded  to  the  hospital,  but 


428  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

how  are  we  to  transport  them?  Dupeyron  is  in  despair. 
Some  of  the  wounds  unless  the  balls  are  extracted  will 
become  mortal,  and  almost  all  will  become  gangrenous. 
At  last  a  Frenchman  (for  not  one  Peruvian  has  ottered  to 
assist  us)  has  agreed  to  find  a  mule,  which  is  harnessed  to 
a  cart,  and  we  place  upon  it  on  a  straw  bed  three  of  the 
wounded.  Impossible  to  find  in  the  whole  of  the  immense 
crowd  of  lookers  on,  of  gapers,  of  heroic  soldiers  who  are 
strutting  in  the  streets  in  the  midst  of  a  cortege  of  friends, 
four  men  willing  to  assist  us  in  carrying  the  wounded  as 
far  as  the  cart ! 

"Holloa,  gentlemen,  what  do  you  teach  in  your  convents 
and  preach  to  your  brothers?  The  precepts  of  the  gospel 
which  you  practise,  should  they  be  different  from  those 
which  make  mention  of  a  very  little  virtue  which  is  un- 
known to  you,  charity?" 

Some  French  miscreants,  who  were  fortunately  there, 
assisted  us  with  a  devotion  which  simulates  the  Christian 
charity  forgotten  here.  One,  an  inquisitive  passer  by, 
absolutely  wished  to  enter  the  court  of  the  pharmacy  to 
look  nearer  at  the  pile  of  corpses.  "  Go  in,"  I  said  to  him, 
"  but  on  condition  that  you  work  and  assist  in  carrying  out 
the  dead  bodies."  "  A  caso  un  toma  va  por  un  negro f"  he 
answered  me,  casting  on  me  a  withering  look  of  offended 
dignity.  "Ah  ha!  it  is  true  then  that  the  too  frequent 
contact,  the  constant  manipulation,  the  daily  commerce 
with  the  most  beautiful  things  ends  in  rendering  you  cal- 
lous to  their  greatness  and  their  beauties."  These  nice  fel- 
lows take  the  communion  fifty-two  times  yearly,  have  five 
or  six  hundred  masses  said,  follow  in  all  the  processions, 
and  yet  do  not  understand  the  gospel. 


THE  ANGEL  OF  CHARITY.  429 


CHAPTER  XXVin. 

Half-past  six  o'clook  P.  M. 

Gomez  Sanchez,  the  minister,  has  escaped,  it  is  not 
known  how,  from  the  troops  who  have  taken  the  palace 
where  he  commanded  up  to  the  last  moment.  He  en- 
trenched himself  with  a  few  battalions  in  the  little  fort  of 
Santa  Catalina  at  the  extremity  of  the  city,  and  has  held 
his  ground  since  this  morning  against  the  army  of  Canseco. 
A  summons  to  yield  has  been  sent  him;  he  replied,  he 
would  sooner  die  than  surrender.  The  bearer  of  the  flag 
of  truce  has  returned  to  say  on  the  part  of  the  besiegers 
that  they  would  give  no  quarter  to  him  if  he  did  not  sur- 
render at  discretion  before  sunset.    He  has  again  refused. 

They  continue  to  bring  in  the  wounded  to  us.  The 
cart  man  has  made  six  journeys,  and  the  last  of  our 
wounded  have  just  gone.  Th«  dead  are  carried  off  in  a 
species  of  open  coffin.  The  floor  is  impregnated  with  blood ; 
after  having  aired  it  as  much  as  possible  we  cover  it  with 
bran,  but  the  smell  of  the  blood  is  still  strong,  and  still 
more  that  of  the  cold  sweat  of  the  dying. 

A  Lima  lady,  a  neighbour,  arrived  at  the  pharmacy  at 
six  o'clock  this  morning  to  take  care  of  the  sick.  For 
twelve  hours  she  has  taken  no  nourishment,  no  repose; 
her  white  hands  are  stained  with  the  blood  of  all  these 
horrible  wounds.  She  has  given  the  most  sympathetic 
attention,  and  is  everywhere  like  the  angel  of  charity. 
The  priests  are  missing  this  morning,  many  of  the  un- 
fortunate creatures  are  at  the  point  of  death.  She  was 
kneeling  beside  them  and  tellins;  them  everything  which 
might  console  and  ameliorate  their  anguish.  "Ay  tayta, 
tayta"  (little  mother),  "am  I  dying?  "Yes,  my  son," 
replied  the  young  girl,  "and  as  thou  art  a  brave  soldier, 
the  good  God,  his  Son,  and  the  Holy  Virgin  are  awaiting 
thee." 

"Ay,  tayta!  To  behold  them  I  must  confess  to  a  priest?" 


430  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

"l^o !  Cholo,  ]f  thou  repeatest  what  I  just  tell  thee,  and 
if  thou  holdest  this  crucifix  in  thy  hands,  thou  wilt  see 
them."  ^ 

And  the  dear  'little  mother,'  leaning  over  at  the  ear  of 
the  dying,  was  saying  slowly  to  him  an  act  of  contrition 
which  the  poor  soldier  was  repeating,  word  by  word ;  then 
she  made  him  kiss  the  crucifix,  and,  making  the  sign  of  the 
cross,  left  him,  the  courageous  young  girl,  to  run  and  carry 
her  consolations  to  another. 

Ah!  dear  little  'tayta,'  you  have  a  right  to  cling  to  your 
medals,  to  your  scapular,  to  your  novenas,  and  to  burn 
incense  at  the  procession.  It  is  certainly  not  I  who  would 
gainsay  it,  and  I  think  that,  without  being  a  doctor  in  the- 
ology, like  Messieurs  the  Brothers  of  Santa  Domingo,  you 
know  much  more  about  religion  than  their  science  will  ever 
teach  them. 

November  7,  1865. 

The  fort  of  Santa  Catalina  has  not  yet  surrendered,  and 
Pezet,  like  the  imbecile  which  he  is,  did  not  attack  the 
city  during  the  past  night. 

He  has  sent  a  flag  of  truce  to  Cauzeco.  The  result  of 
their  proceedings  is  not  known.  Callao  has  been  pillaged 
and  sacked  by  the  revolutionary  troops  after  it  surrendered. 
They  seized  the  custom-house  stores  and  broke  open  all  the 
cases ;  have  burned  all  the  merchandise,  have  forced  the 
strong  safes  of  many  of  the  merchants,  etc. 

My  piano  had  a  narrow  escape.  It  was  at  the  custom- 
house, and  if  my  friend,  Dupeyron,  had  not  had  it  taken 
out,  it  would  not  have  been  in  existence  to-day. 

The  crowds  in  the  streets  to-day  are  immense.  On  the 
public  square  they  are  engaged  in  removing  the  vestiges  of 
the  fray.  The  dead  horses  remain  there  still.  On  the 
cathedral  walls  lie  many  hundreds  of  corpses,  which,  during 
the  combat,  had  been  collected  in  the  church.  It  is  a  saa 
spectacle,  to  which  the  cries  of  the  women,  who  come  to 
search  for  those  belonging  to  them,  who  have  not  returned 
home,  and  whom  they  recognize  among  the  heaps  of  the 
slain,  add  fresh  horrors. 

They  estimate  the  number  of  the  dead  within  the  palace 
at  two  hundred.     One  of  our  neighbours,  a  charming  young 


ANOTHER  BATTLE  PROBABLE.  431 

girl  of  twenty-two,  remarkable  for  her  beauty,  was  killed 
yesterday  by  a  musket-ball  in  her  chest,  at  the  moment 
when,  like  ourselves,  urged  by  curiosity,  she  sought  to  look 
into  the  street  through  the  blinds  of  her  balcony.  One  of 
the  proprietors  of  the  Hotel  Maurin  has  had  both  legs  car- 
ried away  by  a  ball. 

The  Monteneros  continue  to  pass  by  in  squadrons — the 
musket  or  axe  in  their  iist.  Some  of  them  have  the  lance, 
to  which  is  attached  a  large  green  standard,  which,  seen 
from  afar,  floating  on  the  wmd,  has  a  charming  eftect  in  the 
midst  of  all  the  brilliant  colours  of  the  ponchos. 

6  o'clock  P.  M. 

It  is  probable  that  we  are  about  to  have  again  another 
battle.  General  Pezet  is  a  league  from  the  city.  Notwith- 
standing the  desertion  .of  one  squadron  of  cavalry,  which 
has  gone  over  to  the  enemy,  his  army  is  still  suf&cient  to 
dispute  the  victory  with  them.  Santa  Catalina  has  not  yet 
capitulated.  The  populace  are  crowding  in  the  streets 
which  lie  near  the  fort.  The  commander  of  Santa  Catalina, 
and  he  is  right,  above  all,  fears  lest  his  garrison  and  him- 
self should  be  massacred  if  he  capitulates.  The  magazine 
of  the  arsenal  contains  enough  powder  to  blow  down  the 
city  if  the  people  set  fire  to  it.     Our  position  is  horrible. 

We  have  succeeded,  with  great  trouble,  in  procuring  some 
bread.  Preserves,  sardines,  pies,  are  a-great  relief.  Forgues 
is  installed  in  the  kitchen,  and  makes  us  delicious  fried 
potatoes,  which  bring  to  mind  those  of  the  *barriere  de 
Clichy,'  when  at  boarding-school  I  treated  the  whole  of  my 
schoolmates  with  my  savings  (I  was  then  the  millionaire 
in  virtue  of  being  the  little  American). 

One  of  our  neighbours,  who  found  himself  at  Chorillos, 
without  being  able  to  get  back  to  Lima,  has  made  the  whole 
journey  on  foot,  and  met  on  the  road  a  division  of  Pezet 
advancing  on  Callao. 

Things  are  taking  decidedly  an  alarming  turn.  Gomez 
Sanchez  has  succeeded  in  rejoining  Pezet,  and  has  imparted 
to  him  a  little  of  his  warlike  ardour.  It  appears  that  as 
soon  as  he  saw  that  the  city  would  succumb,  he  left  dis- 
guised on  horseback,  and  arrived  before  noon  at  the  quarters- 
general  of  the  president.    He  left  in  command  General 


432  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

Gutierrez,  a  brave  man,  who  made  the  garrison  swear  to 
die  rather  than  surrender.  All  the  men  took  the  oath,  and 
we  know  how  they  have  kept  it.  Out  of  the  whole  battalion 
of  Celadores  there  remain  fifteen  men.  What  is  horrible 
to  relate  is  that  the  whole  of  the  wounded  we  have  seen, 
and  all  those  whose  wounds  we  have  dressed,  were  revo- 
lutionists. Not  one  of  the  government.  Two  doctors 
with  whom  I  have  just  been  conversing,  have  assured  me 
that  they  have  not  one  in  the  hospitals,  which  corroborates 
Avhat  I  have  just  been  saying,  "  that  the  conquerors  killed 
the  wounded,  and  ^ave  them  no  quarter." 

Fort  Catalina  still  holds  out.  From  the  turret  of  the 
house  the  view  extends  over  the  whole  city,  and  I  perfectly 
distinguish  for  several  moments  the  tower  of  the  fort.  The 
balustrade  and  steps  of  the  turret  are  riddled  with  balls ; 
so  I  allow  myself  the  pleasure  only  for  two  or  three  min- 
utes of  enjoying  from  this  elevated  and  perilous  position 
the  magnificent  panorama  which  opens  upon  the  sight. 

The  number  of  wounded  collected  together  already  ex- 
ceeds five  hundred.  They  have  not  yet  carried  ofl:'  many 
dead  bodies,  which  are  lying  on  the  terraces  of  the  neigh- 
bouring houses,  where  they  were  posted  as  sharp-shooters. 
The  cathedral  towers  were  full  of  them.  They  are  bring- 
ing them  down  to  take  them  to  the  cemetery.  A  singular 
episode  was  that  of  the  general,  chef  de  brigade^  brother 
of  the  general-in-chief  of  the  revolutionists.  When  the 
palace  was  taken  by  assault,  he  was  captured  by  the  con- 
querors, and  taken  before  the  general  president.  The  two 
brothers  fell  into  each  other's  arms  on  meeting.  Sad  effects 
of  civil  war! 

10  o'clock  P.M. 

It  is  just  announced  to  us  that  Pezet  advances  towards 
the  faubourg  of  Santa  Catalina  to  attack  it.  We  are  bar- 
ricaded for  tne  ni^ht.  There  is  no  longer  any  police,  and, 
the  streets  belonging  during  the  night  to  the  Monteneros, 
it  is  probable  that  they  will  pillage  some  of  the  houses. 
Already  last  night  a  jewelry  shop  was  rifled.  If  they 
fight  to-night  they  will  sack  the  city.  Fortunately  the 
American  Legation  is  not  far  off,  and  at  the  first  alarm  I 
shall  go  to  take  shelter  there.    Dupeyron  has  loaded  two 


FOBT  CATALINA  SURRENDERED.  433 

revolvers.  Forgues  has  a  rifle  which  fires  six  times,  and 
another  of  our  guests  a  pocket  pistol.  It  is  not  much,  but 
still  sufiicient  to  keep  in  respect  evil  doers  during  the  time 
necessary  for.  the  women  and  children  to  escape  by  the 
roofs,  which,  as  I  have  said,  are  flat,  and  separated  from 
each  other  by  a  little  wall  which  can  easily  be  crossed.  In 
the  mean  while  I  try  to  sleep  and  put  the  bar  of  iron  across 
the  dooh 

October  8,  10  o'clock  A.M. 

Fort  Santa  Catalina  surrendered  last  evening,  but  Pezet 
has  retaken  Callao  and  is  marching  on  Lima,  from  which 
he  is  only  three  miles  ofl:'.  They  have  shot  fifty  of  the  pil- 
lagers of  Callao. 

2J  o'clock. 

From  the  turret  the  avant-garde  of  Pezet  is  seen  advan- 
cing towards  the  city.  The  artillery  and  cavalry  are  in 
front.  The  remainder  are  lost  in  the  horizon  in  a  cloud  of 
dust. 

The  clock  tower  of  the  cathedral,  behind  our  house, 
swarms  with  soldiers  posted  there  as  sharp-shooters.  At 
the  end  of  our  street,  which  opens  on  the  bridge  of  Rimal, 
by  which  Pezet  proposes  entering  the  city,  they  are  erecting 
batteries. 

What  will  become  of  us? 

The  revolutionists  have  besides  armed  the  populace, 
who  are  in  their  favour.  There  is  nothing  for  me  to  do,  if 
I  am  able  to  leave  the  house,  but  to  go  and  demand  pro- 
tection at  the  American  legation.  Unfortunately  the  fire 
of  the  enemy's  cannon  enfilades  our  street,  and  it  is  more 
than  doubtful  if  we  could  get  there  without  being  struck. 

I  have  some  details  respecting  the  flight  of  Gomez  San- 
chez ;  at  half-past  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  he 
saw  that  the  palace  could  not  hold  out,  he  escaped  by  the 
roofs  with  ten  true  and  devoted  followers  (devoted  ?  as  if 
there  could  be  such  in  a  country  where  treason  is  a  conse- 
crated means  of  making  a  fortune),  they  succeeded  in  get- 
ting down  into  a  little  street  where  they  found  horses,  but 
some  revolutionary  soldiers  discovered  them,  and  thirty 
horsemen  put  themselves  in  pursuit  of  them.  Gomez 
37 


434  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST, 

Sanchez  and  his  suite  betook  themselves  to  the  steep  moun- 
tain roads ;  it  was  flying  for  life,  it  was  a  wild  mad  race. 
The  revolutionists,  better  mounted  than  they,  gained  on 
them  slowly,  and  the  distance  between  them  sensibly  di- 
minished. One  of  the  horses  of  the  fugitives  gave  out, 
his  rider  was  killed.  The  race  continued.  The  balls 
whistled  around  the  minister.  "  Surrender,"  cried  out  the 
pursuers  to  him,  and  he  answered  them  by  sticking  his 
spurs  deeper  into  his  horse's  flanks.  A  ball  struck  the^ofli- 
cer  near  him.  The  unlucky  one  tumbled  into  the  dust. 
The  soldiers  began  to  murmur.  "Surrender  yourselves," 
said  Sanchez  to  them  ;  "  if  you  are  too  cowardly  to  strive  for 
liberty,  I  will  arrive  at  the  president's  camp  or  I  will  be 
slain." 

Six  soldiers  stopped,  and  putting  their  handkerchiefs  at 
the  end  of  their  sword,  they  gave  the  signal  that  they  sur- 
rendered. In  the  mean  time  Gomez  took  the  lead,  and 
after  a  breathless  race  of  two  hours  arrived  at  an  avanU 
poste  of  Pezet's  horsemen.  Without  taking  time  to  rest 
he  divided  them  into  two  companies,  and  returned  with  one 
of  them  on  his  tracks,  whilst  the  other,  by  a  circuit,  was  to 
fall  on  the  rear  of  the  pursuing  horsemen.  He  met  the 
band ;  a  fight  took  place.  Taken  between  the  fifteen  lan- 
cers of  the  minister,  and  the  fifteen  others,  who  cut  oft'  their 
retreat,  they  were  obliged  to  surrender  at  discretion,  as  well 
as  the  six  deserters,  who  one  hour  before  had  abandoned 
the  minister. 

Decidedly  this  little  lawyer  is  in  soul  a  hero^  in  body  a  devil 
(unfinished). 


December  13,  1865. 

My  fears  are  realized  on  the  subject  of  the  locality,  which 
the  partial  giving  way  of  the  theatre  has  forced  me  to 
choose,  in  order  to  continue  the  series  of  my  concerts  which 
have  been  interrupted.  It  was  in  fact  doubtful  if  the 
society  of  Lima  would  not  be  frightened  at  the  idea  of 
entering  into  the  hall  and  gardens  of  Otaiza,  the  Peruvian 
Mabille,  where  every  Sunday  the  tapadas  (veiled  women) 
and  their  "amigas"  had  their  rendezvous,  to  give  them- 
selves up  to  the  stormy  ^Zamaenecas^  and  other  indigenous 


CONCERT  AT  OTAIZA.  435 

dances,  which,  although  very  picturesque,  are  not  such  as 
prudent  mothers  permit  their  daughters  to  indulge  in. 

In  the  face  of  this  difficulty  there  was  only  one  means 
of  overcoming  it ;  raise  the  price  of  the  tickets  so  high  as 
to  be  only  within  the  reach  of  those  privileged  by  fortune. 
I  put  them  up  to  two  dollars.  It  remains  now  *  to  bell 
the  cat'  The  ladies  were  afraid  of  compromising  them- 
selves, DO  one  was  willing  to  be  the  first,  although  they 
were  all  dying  with  curiosity  to  penetrate  into  the  profane 
sanctuary  about  which  good  and  evil  tongues  had  been 
talking  for  a  very  long  time.  The  thick  troves,  the  dark 
alleys,  the  kiosks,  spoke  powerfully  to  the  imagination, 
but,  then,  what  would  people  say? 

One  of  my  friends  persuaded  his  sisters  to  sacrifice 

themselves.     The  rumour  spread  that  General  and 

his  family  had  taken  twenty  seats.  In  four  hours  the 
hall  was  full.  The  first  concert  was  not  finished  before 
the  seats  were  already  taken  for  a  second. 

Besides  '  Otaiza,'  the  proprietor,  who  has  been  to  Paris, 
where  he  has  assiduously  visited  for  two  years  the 
Mabille  Gardens,  had    done    things    like  a  lord.     The 

fardens  were  lighted  dgiomo.  The  floor  and  alleys  had 
een  watered  with  eau  ae  Cologne,  and  every  lady  received 
on  entering  the  hall  an  enormous  bouquet  of  roses  and 
magnolias. 

At  each  of  my  concerts  'Banjo,'  'Murmures  Eoliens,' 
*Charmes  du  Foyer,'  'Ojos  Criolos'  (the  last  has  been 
encored  three  times)  were  called  for  again. 

This  evening  I  gave  a  seventh  concert.  I  play  for  the 
first  -time  an  important  arrangement  which  I  have  just 
written  on  '  Le  Ballo  in  Maschera.' 

We  are  literally  on  the  eve  of  a  war  with  Spain,  for  the 
decree,  people  say,  is  to  be  published  to-morrow.  The 
conflict  between  the  latter  and  Chili  renders  imminent 
the  hostile  participation  of  Peru,  the  Spanish  American 
republics  being  so  strongly  connected  with  each  other  by 
their  common  origin  and  their  political  institutions. 

LiMA)  January  13,  1866. 

My  concerts  are  finished.  They  have  been  profitable, 
and  my  success  has  very  much  surpassed  my  expectations. 


436  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

Eight  days  ago  a  superb  decoration  was  presented  to  me ; 
the  ribbon  attached  to  it  is  white  and  red.  I  think  of 
going  to  rest  myself  at  Chorillos,  and  to  take  the  sea-baths 
there,  for,  although  January,  we  are  in  midsummer.  Cho- 
rillos is  three  leagues  from  Lima,  and  I  shall  be  able  to 
come  to  the  city  every  day.  I  have  the  idea  of  going  to 
Chili,  which  is  eight  days  from  here  by  steamer,  the  crossing 
being  as  tranquil  as  on  a  lake. 

Chorillos,  February  2,  1866. 

I  have  been  resting  for  fifteen  days  in  a  dolcefar  niente^ 
which  had  become  indispensable  on  account  of  the  fatigues 
of  my  last  voyages. 

The  last  news  of  the  civil  war  in  Spain  has  thrown  all 
the  Spanish  Americas  into  commotion.  Being  at  war  with 
the  Peninsula,  they  are  rejoiced  at  seeing  them  entangled  in 
their  affairs  at  home. 

Lima,  March  18,  1866. 

I  have  been  introduced  to  Raymondi,  an  Italian  savant, 
an  enthusiast  in  natural  history.  He  has  been  travelling 
for  ten  years  on  foot,  knows  all  Peru,  and  has  explored  the 
interior  regions,  to  this  day  unknown.  He  has  told  me  a 
great  deal  about  the  coca  and  its  effects.  The  coca  is  the 
leaf  of  a  small  tree  which  supplies  the  same  place  among 
the  Indians  that  opium  does  among  the  Chinese.  There  is 
not  an  Indian  who  does  not  always  carry  in  a  little  leather 
bag  hung  to  his  neck  a  supply  of  coca. 

The  effects  of  this  plant,  although  not  ascertained  by  the 
physicians,  are  marvellous.  The  Indians,  under  its  influ- 
ence, can  sustain  journeys  of  from  fifteen  to  twenty  hours 
laden  with  heavy  burdens,  remain  without  eating  four 
or  five  days,  and  do  not  become  weaker  for  it.  Soldiers 
on  foreign  expeditions  are  all  always  furnished  with  their 
supplv  of  coca. 

This  is  the  mode  of  proceeding  employed  by  the  Indians 
for  eating  the  coca.  They  take  the  leaf,  after  having 
deprived  it  of  its  filaments,  and  make  a  ball  of  it  which 
they  put  in  a  corner  of  their  mouth  like  a  quid  of  tobacco, 
then  with  a  little  silver  or  gold  pin,  the  point  of  which 
they  moisten  with  their  saliva  and  dm  into  a  little  box 
filled  with  lime,  they  prick  the  ball.     The  grains  of  lime 


EFFECTS  OF  COCA.  437 

adliering  to  the  pin  remain  in  the  ball.  Tliey  then  chew, 
and  as  it  appears  that  there  should  be  a  certain  proportion 
between  the  lime  and  the  coca,  to  produce  this  condition, 
they  add  sometimes  a  leaf  of  coca,  or  dip  again  their  pin 
into  the  lime,  according  as  they  wish  to  augment  the 
quantity  of  the  one  or  the  other. 

The  effects  of  the  coca  are  generally  felt  at  the  expira- 
tion of  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  Their  marches  are  measured 
by  the  number  of  cocades  consumed.  Such  a  village  is  at 
the  distance  of  ten  cocades,  which  is  the  same  as  saying 
that  a  peon  could  go  the  distance  by  running,  provided  he 
had  ten  rations  of  coca,  and  a  quarter  of  an  hour  at  each  one 
of  the  armados.  These  are  a  kind  of  station.  The  peons 
are  seen  to  arrive  panting,  their  tongues  dry,  hanging  out 
of  their  mouths,  their  eyes  projecting  and  bloodshot,  at 
the  stopping  place  for  the  cocado.  They  fall  exhausted 
and  seem  ready  to  die  with  fatigue,  but  immediately  they 
spit  out  the  ball  already  masticated  and  proceed  to  the 
making  of  the  new  one. 

Little  by  little  the  effects  of  the  wonderful  plant  can  be  seen 
in  their  organism  and  in  their  features,  and  at  the  tenth 
minute  they  are  ready  to  rise  and  continue  their  journey. 

March  20. 

I  have  embarked  on  board  the  Limena  for  Islay.  Islay 
is  a  little  port  about  one  hundred  leagues  south  of  Lima. 
I  go  there  only  to  get  on  shore,  Islay  being  only  a  small 
borough ;  but  it  is  animated,  being  the  outlet  on  the  sea  to 
Arequipa,  a  city  of  thirty  or  forty  thousand  inhabitants, 
which  is  situated  at  the  distance  of  thirty  leagues  in  the 
interior.  It  is  necessary  to  cross  a  desert  of  sand,  and  the 
baggage  is  transported  on  mules.  There  are  ten  parados 
or  tambos.  The  tambo  is  a  relay  and  at  the  same  time  a 
refuge  for  the  traveller  overtaken  by  the  night.  It  is 
mostly  a  hut:  four  stakes  covered  over  witli  a  roof  of 
leaves.  One  sleeps  there  or  shelters  himself  from  the  heat 
of  the  sun  and  the  rain. 

I  am  going  to  Arequipa.  I  am  curious  to  see  this  focus 
of  insurrection.  The  Arequipenos  are  celebrated  for  their 
indomitable  character  and  their  warlike  disposition.  Every 
revolution  commences  at  Arequipa,  and  the  soldiers  are 
considered  brave  among  the  brave. 

87* 


438  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

I  remember  a  dying  Indian  soldier,  the  sixth  of  last 
November,  of  whom  I  inquired  if  he  belonged  to  a  regi- 
ment of  Lima,  proudly  rising  to  tell  me,  "  Non,  Senor,  del 
batallon  d'Arequipa,"  as  an  old  soldier  of  Napoleon's 
would  have  answered  that  he  belonged  to  the  Old  Guard. 

The  city  of  Arequipa  is  white,  and  has  a  pretty  appear- 
ance. It  looks  like  a  dove  concealed  in  a  nest  of  leaves, 
eays  a  poet ;  with  its  back  to  a  large  volcano  covered  with 
snow,  it  presents  the  most  picturesque  view.  The  vegeta- 
tion in  the  environs  is  fresh  and  green — a  rare  thing  in 
Peru,  where  the  country  is  gray,  dusty,  and  arid. 

All  those  who  have  travelled  from  Islay  to  Arequipa 
speak  of  it  to  me  as  a  herculean  labour.  The  first 
'Jornada'  is  of  twelve  hours;  then  you  arrive  at  the  Tamho 
de  la  joya^  where  an  Englishman  has  established  a  little 
hotel  with  heds^  where  you  can  sleep  without  much  fear  of 
the  '  squatters.' 

The  water  has  to  be  carried  twelve  leagues,  and  costs 
ten  sous  a  bucketful  for  the  cattle. 

March  22. 

Arrived  at  Islay.  A  few  miserable  huts  hanging  to 
steep  rocks.     The  sea  has  made  grottos  under  the  clifls  and 

S^iven  fantastic  boundaries  to  the  shore.  It  is  not  a  very 
ong  time  since  one  could  not  land  at  Islay  without  being 
hoisted  up  from  the  boat  to  the  top  of  the  cliff  in  a  chair 
attached  to  a  chain.  The  landing  is  less  dangerous  now, 
if  not  more  commodious.  It  is  worked  by  means  of  beams 
held  by  chains,  which  form  a  kind  of  ladder.  One  hangs 
on  to  them,  and  with  some  notion  of  gymnastics,  and  get- 
ting the  feet  a  little  wet,  one  is  nearly  certain  of  gettmg 
ashore  without  being  drowned. 

What  a  dreary  aspect !  Not  a  leaf,  not  a  plant,  only 
bald  gray  rocks.  The  Spaniards  being  the  red  phantom  of 
the  moment,  nobody  lands  without  a  passport.  A  lieu- 
tenant and  some  soldiers  receive  me  on  top  of  the  scaffold- 
ing, and  permit  me  to  pass  after  having  examined  my  pass- 
port. It  appears  they  know  me,  for  I  hear  my  name  re- 
peated from  mouth  to  mouth.  A  young  merchant,  who 
heard  me  at  Lima,  invites  me  to  his  house.  We  are  soon 
rejoined  there  by  the  commandant  of  the  customs  and  the 


AREQUIPA,  ARICA.  439 

military  commandant.  Two  travellers  who  arrive  at  this 
moment  from  Arequipa,  and  who  have  made  the  journey 
in  twenty-four  hours  at  one  stage,  present  such  a  look  of 
fatigue  and  of  miseries  undergone  by  them,  that  I  give  up 

going  there.  Besides,  I  learn  that  the  theatre  at  Arequipa 
as  no  roof.  The  evil  is  not  ffreat  in  a  country  where  it 
does  not  rain  for  nine  months ;  but  the  winter  is  beginning, 
and  in  eight  days  the  deluging  rains  will  also  make  their 
appearance,  consequently  I  should  have  to  wait  three 
months  to  be  able  to  announce  a  concert,  the  public  never 
going  to  the  theatre  in  the  winter  for  a  good  reason.  I 
will  continue  my  voyage  to  the  south  as  far  as  Arica, 
another  little  port  fifty  leagues  to  the  south  of  Islay,  and  I 
return  to  the  boat  which  has  just  shot  off"  a  cannon — a 
signal  of  leaving. 

At  the  foot  of  the  cliff  a  little  cove  is  formed,  where  the 
sea  exhausts  itself  in  little  soft  ripples  on  a  beach  of  large, 
flat,  white  stones.  Some  young  children,  all  naked,  are 
bathing  there.  A  young  Indian  girl  is  swimming  among 
them  in  water  so  transparent  that  I  can  see  that  she  wears 
no  bathinff  costume.  She  has  placed  a  handkerchief  over 
her  chest,T)ut  in  swimming  it  has  got  up,  and  now  answers 
for  a  cravat.    Besides,  noBody  seems  to  see  her. 

March  23. 

Landed  at  Arica,  a  pretty  country  town  seen  from  the 
sea.  An  immense  rock,  which  runs  out  into  the  sea  and 
overhangs  the  town,  is  crowned  with  a  battery  of  large 
cannons.  It  is  an  admirable  natural  fortification.  Last 
year  the  constitutional  Peruvian  squadron  came  to  bom- 
bard Arica,  which  had  pronounced  for  the  revolution,  but 
it  was  obliged  to  retire,  no  shot  being  able  to  reach  as  high 
as  this  battery  perched  upon  the  rocK. 

With  a  small  effort  of  the  imagination  one  can  see  an 
immense  sphynx  placed  alongside  of  the  town  and  seeming 
to  guard  it.  Its  gray  and  bald  croup  extends  into  the  in- 
terior of  the  countrv,  and  loses  itself  in  a  chain  of  moun- 
tains  which  bounds  the  horizon  behind  the  town.  The  city 
of  Arica  is,  in  truth,  a  little  country  town.  Its  importance 
is  due  particularly  to  its  proximity  to  Bolivia. 


440  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

La  Paz  is  five  days'  journey  on  mules  from  Tacna. 
Tacna  is  reached  from  Arica  in  two  hours  by  rail. 

The  whole  trade  of  Bolivia  passes  through  Tacna  and 
Arica,    The  muleteers  are  all  from  Tacna. 

There  is  on  board  a  merchant  from  Chuquisaca,  the  capi- 
tal of  Bolivia,  who  is  trying  to  persuade  me  to  go  to  Bolivia 
with  him.  But  one  hundred  and  eighty  leagues  of  country  on 
mules  has  nothing  attractive  in  a  land  where  there  are  no 
hotels.  As  for  the  dangers,  they  arise  only  from  fatigue  and 
travelling  accidents — robbers  are  here  unknown.  Every 
month  hundreds  and  thousands  of  dollars  are  sent  in  cases 
made  of  cow-hides,  under  the  conduct  of  Indian  muleteers, 
and  a  real  is  never  missing,  notwithstanding  the  distance 
travelled  is  two,  three,  or  lour  hundred  leagues.  It  often 
happens  (the  fact  has  often  been  mentioned  to  me  by  many 
merchants)  that  the  convoy  of  silver  arrives  at  Tacna  with 
one  mule  missing  and  also  the  load.  "The  animal  has  died 
of  fatigue  fifty  leagues  from  here,"  says  the  Indian,  "and 
I  have  placed  it  near  him — ^I  will  bring  it  to  you  on  the 
next  journey."  And,  again,  true  enough,  he  finds  the  case  of 
dollars  untouched  near  the  carcass  of  the  animal,  and  brings 
it  with  him  on  his  next  trip. 

There  is  at  the  present  time  at  Arica  a  troop  of  Spanish 
actors,  who  are  going  to  Buenos  Ay  res  by  land,  playing  in 
every  town  on  me  road,  an  itinerary  equal  in  distance  to 
that  from  Paris  to  St.  Petersburg.  I  shall  perhaps  make 
this  journey,  the  novelty  and  hazards  of  which  singularly 
tempt  me. 

I  have  been  promenading  the  town.  The  church  of  Arica 
is  like  all  the  Spanish  village  churches — ^fuU  of  gew-gaws 
and  bric-a-brac.  The  large  rock  rises  perpendicularly  on 
one  of  the  sides  of  the  church  square.  It  is  entirely  gray 
and  bare.  One  can  hardly  form  an  idea  of  its  height — ^the 
eye  having  no  point  of  departure  to  establish  the  propor- 
tions of  this  vast  granitic  mass  which  pierces  the  sky.  A 
few  little  white  lines  stripe  it  like  a  zebra  in  opposite  direc- 
tions; these  are  the  paths — a  singular  optical  eflect,  A 
battalion  of  soldiers,  not  larger  than  lead  toy  soldiers,  de- 
scend from  the  top.  They  look  to  me  as  if  only  a  few 
yards  oft'.    I  distinguish  them  as  clearly  as  if  they  were 


INDIANS  OF  AYA  CUCHO.  44I 

about  to  touch  me,  absolutely  as  if  I  was  looking  at  an  ob- 
ject through  the  large  end  of  an  opera  glass. 

We  have  on  board  an  individual  who  has  just  been  ap- 
pointed commandant  general  of  the  fortifications  of  Arica. 
He  is  a  distinguished  man,  and  full  of  moderation — ^a  rare 
thing  among  the  Peruvians. 

There  is  a  decree  of  Prado's  which  subjects  to  a  very  se- 
vere penalty  every  Peruvian  whose  services  may  be  required 
by  the  government,  and  who  shall  refuse  to  accept  its  man- 
date. Colonel  V.  G.  has  been  obliged  to  abandon  his 
family  to  come  to  Arica  to  take  the  command  of  the  forti- 
fications. '' 

He  relates  to  me  some  of  his  campaigns  in  the  interior. 
In  the  department  of  Ayacucho  there  are  villages  and  en- 
tire districts  whose  inhabitants,  for  the  most  part  Indians, 
are  so  ferocious  and  independent  that  no  one  has  ever  been 
able  to  collect  the  taxes,  or  make  them  submit  to  any  of 
the  burdens  imposed  upon  the  other  citizens  of  the  repub- 
lic, whilst  they  exact  from  the  government  that  protection 
which  it  extends  to  all.  They  were  obedient  to  the  govern- 
ment of  Marshall  Santa  Cruz  for  forty  years,  because  Santa 
Cruz  was  a  half  Indian — his  mother  being  a  Cacique  (a 
descendant  of  the  privileged  families  of  the  Incas).  Near 
to  Ayacucho  these  Indians  have  elected  a  governor,  who 
was  called  for  a  long  time  a  Peruvian  general  by  his  own 
authority.  His  son  (the  general  was  dead)  governed  when 
D.  N.  Vergas  was  sent  by  the  republic  of  Lima  to  take  the 
command  with  the  title  of  colonel.  He  was  a  fat  Indian, 
filthily  dirty,  who  smelled  strong  of  dirt  ten  feet  off*.  "  I 
made  him  a  present  of  a  pair  of  epaulettes,"  said  Vergas  to 
me,  "but  he  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  them,  being 
naked,  with  the  exception  of  his  sash.  He  fastened  them 
to  it,  as  well  as  he  could,  and  demanded  that  the  music  of 
the  regiment,  which  I  had  brought  with  me,  should  parade 
the  streets  with  him  in  order  that  all  might  see  him  with 
his  ensign  of  colonel." 

This  population  is  a  very  savage  one.  They  tear  out 
the  eyes  of  their  prisoners,  and  the  bones  from  out  the 
limbs  with  horrible  refinements  of  cruelty.  They  are 
Catholics ;   have  their  churches  and  their  priests,  which 


442  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

does  not  prevent  them  (in  the  Sierra  Cordillera)  from  being 
cannibals. 

Tacna,  March  24,  1866. 

A  neat  city.  I  take  notice  in  the  principal  street  of  some 
French  shops,  among  others,  a  Parisian  perfumer  and  hair- 
dresser. In  the  middle  of  the  principal  promenade,  which 
is  very  long,  and  lined  with  trees,  flows,  between  two  stony 
declivities  on  a  bed  which  has  been  paved,  the  river.  At 
intervals  a  stone  arch  is  boldly  thrown  from  one  side  to  the 
other  (a  yard  and  a  half  in  width).  The  river  flows  tumul- 
tuously,  and  with  a  noise. 

March  31. 

Three  Indians  have  just  arrived  from  Bolivia.  Their 
mules  are  loaded  with  silver.  These  are  Indians  from 
Potosi,  who  come  from  the  mines.  They  have  travelled 
three  hundred  leagues ;  have  crossed  the  deserts,  the  Cor- 
dilleras, and  rivers ;  have  travelled  day  and  night  with  a 
load  worth  fifteen  thousand  francs.  The  type  of  the 
Indians  of  Bolivia  is  uglier  than  that  of  Peru.  The  cholo 
of  Peru  is  fat,  small,  thick  set ;  his  apathetic  features  do 
not  lack  a  certain  intelligence :  he  is  mild  and  generally 
peaceable.  The  Bolivian  is  thin ;  his  skin,  of  an  earthy 
brown,  approaches  almost  to  black;  his  physiognomy  is 
that  of  a  brute ;  his  form  angular ;  he  has  the  appearance 
of  a  monkey  and  the  bear  in  his  movements  and  his  con- 
duct; his  features  are  horrible;  his  mouth  is  opened  to 
his  ears ;  his  long  nose,  flattened  at  his  birth,  and  cut  slop- 
ing to  the  nostrits,  is  like  a  monkey's ;  his  forehead  is  de- 
pressed; above  his  eyebrows  his  rough,  stiff',  dull  black 
hair  commences,  falling  with  metallic  rigidity  in  thick 
locks  around  his  hollow  cheeks ;  his  little  round  eyes,  very 
near  together,  complete  his  resemblance  to  the  monkey. 

Tacna,  April  2. 

Soir6e  at  S 's.      The  society  of  Tacna  is  natdrally 

very  limited:  eight  or  ten  merchants  married  to  Tacnenas, 
some  young  Bolivians  who  have  been  civilized  by  a  few 
monthfif'  travel  in  Europe,  and  two  or  three  rich  families 


FA CTITIO US  ARISTOCRA  CIES.  448 

of  the  country,  are  the  elements  constituting  the  society  of 
Tacna. 

Wealth  being  almost  the  only  aristocracy  recognized 
among  parvenus  and  republicans,  it  cannot  be  gainsaid 

that  the  S (the  father  is  English),  who  are  rich,  who 

have  a  brother  in  London,  who  have  given  soirees,  who 
possess  the  only  carriage  in  the  city,  occupy  the  first  rank. 
I  have  not  the  least  objection  to  these  assumptions  of  supe- 
riority.    That should  be  the  centre  of  his  little  circle, 

I  have  not  the  least  desire  to  oppose.    But  that  this  im- 

Eerceptible  centre  of  a  microscopic  circle  should  persist  in 
elieving  himself  a  centre  when  he  goes  outside  of  his  little 
sphere,  is  what  I  find  ridiculous.  Unaccustomed  to  be 
seen  outside  of  the  factitious  atmosphere  where  their  satis- 
fied vanity  exercises  itself,  these  little  centres  forget  that 
they  are  nobodies  except  when  surrounded  by  others 
inferior  to  themselves.  What  would  be  thoueht  of  a 
Liliputian,  who,  owing  to  his  great  height,  has  been 
made  drum-major  of  a  Liliputian  regiment,  who,  thrown 
into  the  midst  of  giants,  should  still  aspire  to  the  preroga- 
tives of  the  drum-majoralty?    Absurd! 

There  is  nothing  more  irritating  than  those  factitious 
aristocracies  which  can  be  explained  only  by  the  inferiority 
of  those  among  whom  they  move. 

Some  verv  pretty  women  at  the  treasurer's.  The  dances 
are  quadrilles,  the  lancers,  the  polka,  the  waltz,  and  the 
dance  Habanesa,  which  they  dance  here  entirely  difterent 
from  what  they  do  at  Havana.  After  supper  they  dance 
the  mecapaquena :  it  is  a  species  of  Bolivian  Indian  quad- 
rille, whose  music,  in  a  minor  key,  with  a  racking  rhythm, 
reminds  one  a  little  of  the  Arab  melodies.  The  figures  are 
numerous  and  complicated.  Sometimes  the  lady,  conducted 
by  two  cavaliers,  advances.  The  step  is  always  the  same 
throughout  the  whole  quadrille ;  it  is  a  skipping  from  one 
foot  to  the  other,  rapidly  and  lightly,  which  gives  to  the 
ladies  the  appearance  of  a  shivering  throughout  their  body. 
Sometimes  the  lady  leads,  the  arms  extended,  holding  a 
handkerchief  by  the  two  ends.  With  head  inclined,  she 
makes  the  tour  of  the  room;  then  all  at  once,  like  a  fright- 
ened dove,  she  flies  and  escapes  to  one  extremity ;  then 
slowly  returns,  with  her  head  turned  backward,  as  if  she 


444  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

was  trying  to  resist  some  invisible  force  which  carries  her 
(with  lascivious  undulations).     It  is  curious  and  charming. 

The  wife  of  'N ,  a  good  little  old  lady,  whose  round 

face  looks  like  a  small  red  apple  dried  up  by  the  sun,  has 
Cacique  blood  in  her  veins. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

There  are  still  some  Peruvian  families  who  boast  of 
being  descended  from  the  privileged,  sacerdotal,  and  gov- 
ernmental class  of  the  Incas.  But  as  there  exists  in  general 
a  very  strong  prejudice  against  the  Indians,  and  as  the 
principal  families  hold  it  to  be  an  honour  to  be  entirely 
white,  1  suppose  that  the  families  who  betray  too  clearly 
by  their  colour  their  indigenous  stock,  save  their  pride  by 
claiming  an  almost  royal  origin,  and  take  a  Cacique  for 
their  ancestor. 

It  nevertheless  appears  positive  that  this  good  little  old 
woman  of  sixty  years,  round  and  plump,  whose  two  large 
black  eyes  sparkle  in  their  besmutted  orbits,  and  who 
shows  when  she  smiles  two  rows  of  white  pearls,  descends 
from  the  Cacique  Huascar.  She  has  been  a  marvellous 
beauty,  they  say,  and  the  chronicle  of  scandals,  always 
busy  in  small  towns,  has  told  me  in  a  whisper  the  follow- 
ing story: — 

Bolivar,  that  indefatigable  hero,  who  was  hewing  out 
territories  with  his  conquering  sword  and  creating  with 
his  powerful  breath  nations  on  this  immense  continent  of 
the  New  World,  which  he  had  just  snatched  from  Spain, 
although  less  great  than  Washington,  not  possessing  either 
his  virtue  or  wisdom,  presented  in  his  whole  character 
some  features  more  striking,  more  romantic  than  those  of 
his  model — ^the  immortal  and  august  founder  of  the  Re- 
public of  the  United  States.  There  is  in  Washington 
something  graver,  more  thoughtful,  which  becomes  the 
cold  genius  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  —  it  is  Cincinnatus 
and  Socrates  ennobled  by  Christianity ;  whilst  Bolivar  was 


WASHINGTON  AND  BOLIVAR.  445 

a  man  of  the  Spanish- American  race.  He  partakes  of  the 
Condottieri  of  the  middle  ages  by  his  extravagant  depre- 
dations, and  of  the  hero  by  his  intrepid  valour,  his  fiery 
energy,  and  the  sublime  sacrifices  which  he  has  made  for 
liberty  and  his  country.  Washington  will  never  descend 
from  the  serene  heights  of  history,  where  he  dominates  in 
all  the  majesty  of  the  great,  the  good,  and  the  true — the 

freatest  representatives  of  humanity ;  whilst  Bolivar  has 
een  already  the  type  of  many  Romans.  If  Bolivar,  in 
the  midst  of  the  dissensions  which  already  were  com- 
mencing to  paralyze  the  flight  of  the  new  republics,  had 
provoked  bitter  hatreds,  he  had  also  inspired  the  greater 
part  of  the  nations  which  he  had  just  created  with  an 
idolatrous  devotion.  From  the  Straits  of  Magellan  to 
Venezuela,  from  the  banks  of  the  Amazon  to  the  shores  of 
the  Pacific,  and  on  all  the  peaks  of  the  Andes,  the  name  of 
Bolivar  excited  transports  of  enthusiasm. 

During  one  of  those  short  intervals  in  his  life  of 
combats,  between  two  battles,  he  stopped  at  Tacna.  The 
hero  was  teted:  the  citizens  and  magistrates  exhausted 
all  the  resources  which  the  intoxication  of  patriotic 
enthusiasm  could  suggest.  The  'Pearl  of  Tacna,'  and 
the  descendant  of  the  Cacique  Huascar,  then  in  all  the 
brilliancy  of  her  beauty  and  youth,  attracted  his  notice. 
Urged  by  the  frenzy  of  enthusiasm,  of  grateful  patri- 
otism, her  father,  they  assert,  presented  her  to  the  '  Liber- 
ator.' But  the  restless  soul  of  the  hero  would  not  per- 
mit him  any  repose  so  long  as  his  task  was  incomplete. 
There  still  remained  the  half  of  the  continent  to  be  taken 
from  the  Spaniards.  He  tore  himself  from  love,  and  threw 
himself  again  into  the  whirlwind  of  battles.  The  cannon, 
glory,  and  ambition  soon  effaced  the  memory  of  the  grand- 
daughter of  the  Inca  Huascar.  He  never  saw  her  again ! 
The  poor  child !  a  moment  dazzled  by  the  aureole  which 
surrounded  the  hero,  thought  that  in  obeying  her  father, 
she  was  also  yielding  to  the  transports  of  her  own  heart; 
but  when  alone  and  abandoned  she  became  a  mother,  she 
interrogated  her  heart  and  discovered  that  she  had  never 
loved.  She  was  then  eighteen  years  old.  Concentrating 
all  the  treasures  of  tenderness  which  her  virgin  heart  in- 
closed, she  resolved  never  to  marry,  and  to  consecrate  her- 
88 


446  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

self  entirely  to  her  daughter.  Some  years  later,  her  beauty, 
which  time  had  only  ripened,  having  attracted  to  her  the 
attentions  of  X ,  then  also  young,  she  yielded  to  a  de- 
sire which  proclaimed  itself  with  so  much  the  more  vio- 
lence as  her  heart  up  to  that  time  had  remained  mute.  She 
married.  Their  union  was  for  a  long  time  happy.  But 
clouds,  at  first  uncertain,  then  thick  and  full  of  storm,  came 
to  darken  the  peace  of  the  household.  This  house  was  for 
a  long  time  enshrouded  in  mystery,  and  the  dark  drama, 
which  took  place  there,  is  still  in  its  details  unknown  to 
almost  all.  It  was  confided  to  my  ear,  and  I  here  relate  it. 
The  natural  daughter  of  Bolivar  had  grown ;  although 
hardly  adolescent,  she  was  as  beautiful  as  her  mother. 

X loved  her.    Did  she  yield  or  not  to  his  wishes  ?    No 

one  knows.  She  died  suddenly,  and  as  no  physician  was 
called  in,  and  as  after  her  death  the  clouds  which  had 
troubled  the  peace  of  the  household  appeared  to  be  dissi- 
pated, remarks  upon  them  were  not  wanting.  It  would 
seem  that  the  daughter  of  the  Inca  Huascar,  divided  be- 
tween her  jealousy  for  her  husband,  and  her  instincts  as  a 
mother,  sacrificed  the  latter  to  the  former,  and  poisoned 
her  daughter ;  her  blind  passion  permitting  her  to  see  in 
her  only  a  favoured  rival. 

I  admit,  that  since,  I  cannot  without  ap  indescribable 
emotion,  look  at  this  good  little  old  woman  who  ofters  me 
a  cup  of  tea  with  all  the  placidity  of  a  ffood  old  grand- 
mother whose  conscience  has  never  been  sullied  by  a  crime. 

Tacna,  April  5. 

Passed  the  evening  with  a  Swiss  merchant,  who  has  mar- 
ried in  this  country.  We  have  had  music,  and  I  liave 
played  for  them  the  overture  to  'William  Tell'  and  the 
'  Marche  de  Faust.'  It  was  the  first  time  that  they  had 
heard  a  composition  on  this  opera,  which,  nevertheless,  they 
were  acquainted  with  through  the  newspapers. 

A  charming  evening !  Many  ladies  have  sung.  A  Ger- 
man amateur  and  a  lady  have  sung  the  duo  *  Masnadieri,' 
and  that  of  'Rigoletto.'  To-day  I  have  been  invited  to  eat 
game  taken  on  the  Tacora.  The  Tacora  is  a  peak  of  the 
Andes,  whose  snowy  point  rises  behind  the  first  chain  of 
mountains  of  the  Sierra.     It  is  fifteen  thousand  feet  in 


INDIANS  AND  ROBBERS.  447 

height.  They  shoot  wild  geese  there,  which  are  said  to  be 
exquisite.  A  young  clerk  left  (from  Mr.  Hay's,  the  mer- 
chant) for  Tacora  (two  days'  walk),  and  has  brought  back 
a  superb  supply. 

Tacna,  April  6,  1866. 

Last  evening ;  second  concert  at  Tacna.  Audience  pas- 
sable. My  friend,  Mr.  H.,  on  reaching  home,  found  the  door 
of  his  stable  open,  and  his  horse,  a  superb  animal,  had  dis- 
appeared. This  morning  he  has  called  in  some  Indians  of 
Bolivia  for  the  purpose  of  pursuing  the  robber,  and  taking 
from  him  his  horse.  A  few  hours  later  on  they  brought 
the  horse  to  him.  He  was  found  covered  with  foam  and 
sweat,  and  bearing  all  the  traces  of  a  long  race.  It  is  pro- 
bable that  some  Indian  who  had  to  make  a  sudden  journey 
last  night  had  taken  this  commodious  means  of  borrowing 
the  horse  of  H . 

These  Indians  which  H had   immediately  called 

upon,  have  an  admirable  instinct  in  capturing  marauders 
and  finding  stolen  horses  or  cattle.  The  tricks  employed 
by  the  robbers  for  the  purpose  of  destroying  their  tracks 
are  worthy  those  of  the  red  skin.  The  print  of  the  foot 
betraying  the  road  taken  by  the  animal,  they  put  on  him 
imitation  hoofs ;  but  the  Indians  do  not  let  themselves  be 
taken  in,  they  recognize  by  the  greater  or  less  depth  of 
the  hoof  if  it  is  real  or  not.  Sometimes  they  put  on  a 
sheep  the  hoofs  of  a  horse  or  cow,  but  they  make  nothing 
by  it,  the  Indian  has  other  signs  by  which  he  recognizes 
the  animal. 

Good  Friday. 

The  Lamentations  are  sung  false  by  an  old  Spanish  priest. 
The  accompaniment  consists  of  a  violin  and  violoncello. 
I  mention  the  latter  as  a  memorandum  seeing  that  it  had 
only  one  note.  It  is  an  old  Indian  who  plays  it,  and  I 
forbear  saying  what  he  did.  While  the  priest  was 
chanting  the  Lamentations,  he  was  frolicking,  making 
sometimes  trills,  sometimes  arpeggios,  sometimes  chromatic 
scales,  ascending,  descending, — he  was  frolicking,  I  say, 
agreeably  on  the  treble  string,  precipitating  himself  from 
its  sharp  summit  into  the  depths  of  the  fourth  string  where 
he  rested  on  a  tremolo,  then  came  a  squib  which  escaped 
altogether  upward,  the  whole  of  this  false,  out  of  tune, 


448  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST, 

strumming  without  any  regard  to  the  key  in  which  the 
priest  was  singing. 

Besides,  I  must  say  that  the  latter  got  out  of  the  key  in 
such  a  way  that  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  follow 
him.  When  he  had  finished  one  verse  and  was  taking 
breath  again,  the  violin,  which  had  travelled  insensibly 
upwards  or  descended  one-fourth  of  a  note,  returned  again 
to  the  original  key,  was  striking  a  chord,  invariably  in 
G,  followed  by  a  fluttering  little  scale;  then  the  father 
began  again,  and  the  squibs  of  the  violin  recommenced. 
The  eflfect  was  strange,  when  a  corde  dvide^  being  in  the 
primitive  diapason,  produced  the  eflfect  of  a  shower-bath 
every  time  that  it  returned — oh  dear!  oh  dear! 

Tacna,  April  9. 

The  news  of  the  bombardment  of  Valparaiso  changes  all 
my  plans  of  travel, — the  intention  of  the  Spaniards  being 
indubitably  to  go  up  the  coast  as  far  as  Guayaquil  and 
bum  all  the  ports.  I  shall  not  be  able,  without  imprudence, 
to  go  south  to  Iquique,  where  I  was  thinking  of  giving  a 
concert.     What  am  I  to  do?  Where  shall  I  go? 

Bolivia  is  opened  before  me.  Ensconced  in  the  interior  of 
the  continent,  wedged  in  the  middle  of  the  other  republics 
who  serve  her  for  shields,  entrenched  behind  the  snowy 
summits  of  the  Andes,  she  defies  the  Spaniards,  and  con- 
tinues to  live  in  the  midst  of  her  normal  atmosphere  of 
revolutions,  emeutes,  assassinations,  and  crimes.  I  have  the 
greatest  desire  to  visit  the  capital  of  Bolivia,  but  it  is 
three  hundred  miles  in  the  interior,  and  the  journey  is 
made  on  the  backs  of  mules.  It  is  necessary  to  cross  first 
a  barrier  of  mountains,  traverse  a  vast  extent  of  desert,  to 
cross  the  Tacora  in  the  midst  of  snows,  and  the  regions 
constituting  the  summit  of  the  Andes  at  fifteen  thousand 
feet  above  the  sea,  before  arriving  at  La  Paz,  which  has  at 
least  an  elevation  of  twelve  thousand  feet. 

Travellers  unaccustomed  to  the  Andes  are  besides  ex- 
posed to  attacks  of  malaise,  which  is  felt  particularly  on 
the  first  declivities  of  the  Tacora.  The  first  symptoms 
are  a  dimness,  nausea,  sometimes  vomiting  of  blood.  The 
sudden  alternations  of  cold  and  heat  occasion  besides  chaps 
on  the  lips,  hands,  and  the  whole  skin  in  general,  which 


BOLIVIA.  449 

cracks,  swells,  and  degenerates  into  ulcerations.  The 
perspective  on  this  side  has  nothing  attractive  in  it,  but 
on  the  other  it  presents  a  magnificent  occasion  to  go  to  La 
Paz.  Without  reckoning  the  season,  which  is  magnificent, 
the  rains  having  ceased  and  the  storms  of  the  Andes  being 
over,  a  caravan  of  French  travellers  start  to-morrow  on 
the  way  to  Cochabamba  and  stop  on  the  road  at  La  Paz. 
It  is  composed  of  French  engineers,  a  number  of  merchants, 
and  a  French  baron  also,,  who  takes  with  him  the  whole 
equipage  for  a  campaign,  t^nts,  wagons,  provisions,  further 
an  Indian  servant  for  cook,  mules,  arms,  and  photographic 
apparatus.  The  safety  which  foreigners  enjoy  is  relative. 
Bolivia  commits  with  impunity  the  most  flagrant  crimes 
against  the  laws  of  nations  behind  these  bastions  eighteen 
thousand  feet  in  height,  these  giddy  defiles,  these  peaks 
where  the  eagle  soars  or  the  vicuna  pastures.  Her  people, 
strong  and  warlike  by  nature,  are  hardened  by  forty  years 
of  bloody  and  desperate  strife.  Legislation,  laws,  arts,  have 
for  a  long  time  disappeared  before  the  sword,  the  symbol 
everywhere  and  here  particularly  of  brutal  force,  barbarism, 
spoliations,  assassinations,  proscriptions,  military  execu- 
tions, and  all  the  excesses  to  which  a  ferocious  and  licen- 
tious soldier  of  fortune  can  give  himself  who  arrives  at 
supreme  power  sustained  by  a  victorious  and  unbridled 
soldiery.  This  is  the  condition  of  this  unhappy  country 
whose  territory  is  double  that  of  France,  whose  mineral 
and  vegetable  riches  are  inexhaustible,  and  which  under  a 
good  government  would  take  the  first  rank  among  the 
strongest  and  most  favoured  of  the  globe. 

Tacna,  April  21. 

One  of  my  friends  having  received  a  letter  from  one  of 
his  correspondents  at  Valparaiso,  in  which  the  desire  of 
hearing  me  is  expressed  more  strongly  than  ever,  I  find 
myself  again  embarrassed.  On  the  other  side  they  have 
written  to  me  from  Moquehua  (interior  of  Peru)  inviting 
me  to  go  there  to  give  a  concert.  There  is  a  piano  belong- 
ing to  a  Spaniard,  w^ho  on  account  of  my  decorations  oflFers 
me  hospitality  and  his  piano  for  my  concerts ;  but  the  road 
is  long.  There  are  no  dangers,  but  much  fatigue.  The 
Indians  here  are  submissive,  timid,  mild,  and  honest.     They 

38* 


450  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

have  suffered  so  much,  since  the  conquest  (nearly  four  hun- 
dred years  ago),  that  energy  and  human  dignity  have  been 
extinguished  among  them,  to  give  place  in  the  presence  of 
the  wliitcs  to  a  docility  which  borders  on  terror  and  admi- 
ration. The  whites  are  for  them  an  infinitely  superior 
race.  Caravans  of  mules  arrive  here  every  day,  laden 
with  ingots  of  silver,  escorted  by  three  or  four  unarmed, 
half-naked  Indians.  In  the  rainy  season,  the  roads  be- 
come broken  in  the  mountains,  and  sometimes  a  mule  is 
mired  and  disappears  with  his  load  in  the  mud.  He  is 
left  on  the  road.  On  return  of  the  dry  season,  the  same 
Indians  pass  by  the  place  where  the  accident  happened, 
and  carry  oif  the  load  (sometimes  twenty-five  thousand  or 
thirty  thousand  dollars),  which  nobody  has  meddled  with, 
although  caravans  every  day  follow  each  other  on  the  road. 
What  IS  more  singular  in  regard  to  this  honesty  is  that  the 
same  Indians  who  would  not  steal  twenty-five  thousand 
dollars,  will  appropriate  to  themselves,  if  they  can,  a  strap, 
a  nail,  a  piece  of  rag,  the  smallest  trifle  worth  nothing,  that 
may  fall  in  their  way. 

The  port  of  Arica,  belonging  to  Tacna  (connected  with 
it  by  a  railway  eighteen  miles  long)  owes  its  importance  to 
its  geographical  position.  Almost  the  whole  commerce  of 
Bolivia,  its  imports  and  exports,  are  made  through  Tacna. 
Thus  the  muleteers,  the  caravans,  the  long  files  of  laden 
mules  which  come  from  or  are  going  to  La  Paz,  constantly 
encumber  the  principal  street  of  Tacna.  I  have  to-day 
been  more  than  half  an  hour  in  getting  as  far  as  my  door, 
which  nevertheless  was  only  fifty  paces  ofi:'.  A  caravan  of 
loaded  mules  kicking,  pushing  against  each  other,  became 
entangled  and  formed  a  compact  moving  mass  which  would 
neither  go  forward  nor  backward,  confined  as  they  were  in 
this  narrow  street.  The  confusion  of  this  scene  is  indescrib- 
able. The  muleteers  swore,  made  vows  to  their  saints, 
whipped,  jostled;  the  mules  neighed,  kicked,  reared;  the 
bales  knocked  against  each  other;  the  merchandise  was 
scattered  about.     All  this  made  a  horrible  noise. 

The  actual  president  of  Bolivia,  the  most  excellent  libe- 
rator of  his  country,  the  very  illustrious  Seiior  General  Mel- 
garejo  (these  are  his  titles)  is  a  mulatto,  a  sort  of  tiger  with 
a  human  face,  who  gets  drunk  and  becomes  ferocious.     He 


SINGULAR  MARRIAGE  CUSTOMS.  451 

then  kills  everybody  around  him.  He  has  assassinated 
with  his  own  hand  the  ex-president,  whose  place  he  took. 
He  caused  to  be  shot  for  pastime,  by  some  soldiers  sent  for 
him  by  his  corporals  on  duty,  a  young  girl,  almost  at  her 
own  home,  whose  beauty  he  remarked  in  passing  before 
her  window.  In  the  street  he  cut  oif  the  ears  of  his  adju- 
tant with  his  sabre,  cleaved  the  shoulder  of  his  aid-de- 
camp with  one  blow  of  an  axe,  burns,  sacks,  and  gluts  him- 
self like  a  ferocious  beast  in  the  midst  of  all  the  excesses  to 
which  his  savage  and  sanguinary  appetites  drive  him. 
Last  week,  one  of  his  adjutants  having  observed  to  him, 
that  it  would  be  better  if  he  abstained  from  being  present  in 
the  condition  in  which  he  was,  at  a  religious  procession  (he 
was  drunk),  he  placed  his  revolver  on  his  chest  and  killed 
him  at  once. 

Some  of  the  customs  of  Tacna. 

The  marriages  of  the  civilized  Indians  of  Bolivia  are  ex- 
tremely curious.  The  future  husband  having  chosen  his 
godfather,  ordinarily  a  white  gentleman,  goes  with  him  to 
the  house  of  the  'novia'  (bride).  The  godfather  stipu- 
lates with  the  father  or  mother  (sometimes  with  the  god- 
mother which  the  '  novia'  has  chosen^  on  the  conditions  of 
the  marriage.  These  generally  are  pieces  of  pocket-monev 
or  woollen  stufts,  or  a  sheep,  to  be  given  to  the  bride  s 
parents.  Then  they  send  to  the  neighbouring  village  of  the 
husband  and  the  bride  to  get,  for  the  first,  red  pantaloons,  a 
red  coat,  a  three-cornered  hat  with  feathers,  and  shoes. 
For  the  bride,  shoes,  a  dress  of  woollen,  or  of  silk  when  she 
is  rich.  These  costumes  are  the  same  for  all,  they  are  lent 
for  the  ceremony,  and  are  faithfully  sent  back  again  the 
next  day  to  the  furnisher  in  town.  There  is  nothing  so 
pitiable  as  the  grimaces  of  these  poor  husbands  and  wives, 
who  have  never  before  put  on  shoes ;  they  are  in  torture 
and  stumble  at  every  step,  their  clothes  are  too  large  or  too 
small,  and  they  present  the  most  grotesque  appearance  in 
the  world. 

After  the  benediction  at  the  church,  they  are  conducted 
into  a  species  of  little  grove  made  of  small  branches  and 
palms,  where  they  are  made  to  sit  opposite  each  other. 
Exposed  to  the  remarks  of  the  wedding  guests  by  an  open- 
ing like  a  window,  they  must  remain  immovable,  looking 


452  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

at  each  other  without  speaking  for  many  hours.  The 
guests  during  this  time  drink,  dance,  and  eat.  Then  comes 
the  ceremony  of  conducting  them  to  the  nuptial  cabin, 
which  is  accompanied  with  very  singular  customs  and  prac- 
tices. 

Ordinarily  the  godfather  or  godmother  sees  in  the  town,  at 
the  expiration  of  a  few  days,  the  newly-married  ones,  who 
come  to  complain  of  some  trouble  which  has  taken  place  in 
the  household.  These  complaints  are  commonly  that  the 
bride  is  not  willing  to  work,  or  that  the  husband  appropri- 
ates to  himself  all  the  pieces  of  meat  or  of  '  choupe !'  (the 
national  soup).  The  godfather  or  godmother  is  requested 
to  administer  some  blows  with  a  leather  strap  to  the  delin- 
quent, and  the  couple  return  to  their  village.  It  also  often 
happens  that  the  woman  presents  herself,  all  in  tears,  to 
the  priest.  "  Padre,  my  husband  does  not  love  me,  he  has 
not  yet  whipped  me."  The  priest  then  causes  the  husband 
to  be  called,  and  after  having  reproached  him  with  his  in- 
difference, places  in  his  hands  a  whip  and  orders  him  to 
administer  correction  to  his  better  half,  who,  receiving  it 
with  a  relish,  thanks  the  priest,  and  goes  away  certain  mat 
her  husband  loves  her.  The  humility  of  these  poor  Indi- 
ans, their  submission,  their  fear  of  the  whites,  speaks  suffi- 
ciently of  what  they  have  had  to  suffer  from  the  conquest 
up  to  our  days. 

At  every  revolution  they  are  treated  by  both  parties  like 
beasts  of  burden ;  they  are  torn  from  their  families,  and 
forced  to  carry  enormous  burdens  for  the  distance  of  many 
hundreds  of  miles.    Many  perish  from  blows  and  fatigue. 

When  the  woman  is  about  to  be  confined,  the  man  im- 
mediately goes  to  bed,  and  feigns  all  the  pains  of  parturi- 
tion. He  groans,  he  twists,  weeps,  and  the  most  curious 
part  of  it  is,  that  he  persuades  himself  that  he  is  suffering 
in  the  same  way  as  his  wife.  He  divides  with  her  the 
cares  which  are  lavished  upon  her,  drinks  broth,  keeps  his 
bed,  and  is  dieted  during  the  convalescence  of  his  better- 
half. 

I  have  visited  the  market.  It  is  a  parallelogram,  open  at 
the  two  extremities,  by  which  you  can  enter  from  the  ad- 
jacent streets.  On  the  two  sides  are  lateral  alleys,  covered 
like  a  cloister,  under  which  a  crowd  of  Indians  are  squat- 


PREPARING  FOR  EASTER  SUNDA  Y.  453 

ting,  selling  meat,  fruit,  etc.  The  fruit,  particularly  the 
grapes,  is  phenomenal.  A  priest  walked  slowly  through 
the  midst  of  the  merchants  and  made  them  kiss  a  little 
image  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  presenting  to  them  a  plate  on 
which  they  placed  a  small  piece  of  money.  This  operation 
takes  place  every  morning,  and  cannot  fail  to  be  very  pro- 
ductive to  the  treasury  of  the  church. 

Visited  the  church  at  the  upper  part  of  the  town  to-day, 
Holy  Saturday.  They  are  preparing  the  church  for  to- 
morrow, Easter  Sunday ;  three  or  four  devotees,  sitting  on 
some  little  footstools  surrounded  by  their  children,  are 
chatting  before  the  altar.  Some  Indian  servants  are  clean- 
ing the  lamps  which  are  to  ornament  the  altar.  The  whole 
neighbourhood  has  been  placed  in  requisition,  and  I  give 
up  describing  the  coup  d/oeiL  At  the  first  glance  this  pro- 
fusion of  little  mirrors,  of  children's  dolls  dressed  in  little 
skirts,  like  balloons  swinging  between  each  mirror,  the 
little  gilt  paper  flags  which  at  a  distance  produce  the  effect 
of  penny  trumpets ;  the  porcelain  cups,  the  vases  of  artificial 
flowers,  the  chandeliers,  the  lamps  placed  alongside  of  each 
other,  on  each  step  of  the  altar,  that  heterogeneous  crowd 
of  objects  which  shine  in  an  equivocal  manner,  all  this  re- 
calls without  mistake  those  peddler's  booths  .where  for  a 
penny  one  might  win  at  every  trial. 

There  is  an  instrument  in  voffue  among  the  Indians  of 
which  I  must  speak.  It  is  a  flute  made  of  reed,  and  is 
played  like  a  clarionet,  it  is  called  'tristos,'  and  as  it  would 
seem  to  indicate  has  a  very  sad  sound  of  strange  rhythm,  a 
funereal  and  lugubrious  tone.  Tradition  states  that  the 
first  'tristos'  was  made  and  the  instrument  invented  by  a 
friar,  who  was  living  among  the  Indians;  he  lost  his  'gue- 
rida,'  and  made  one  of  these  instruments  out  of  the  tibia 
of  his  well-beloved. 

La  Serena.  (Chili),  January  3,  1867. 

At  my  last  concert  at  Valparaiso,  the  municipal  council 
presented  me  with  a  golden  crown  and  a  gold  medal,  with 
an  inscription.  I  have  had  a  great  deal  of  success  at  my 
two  concerts  here.  To-morrow  I  am  going  to  Copiapo  on 
the  coast. 


454  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

CopiAPO,  February  12. 

(Sad  but  picturesque  incident.) 

I  had  noticed  at  the  hotel  a  large,  thin,  shabby  man, 
whose  distinguished  manners  led  me  to  conjecture  that  he 
was  one  of  those  social  wrecks  with  which  America  so  often 
furnishes  us  an  example.  I  dined  once  with  him  at  the 
French  consul's.  He  was  introduced  to  me.  He  was  an 
engineer,  but  his  bad  health  and  ill  luck  prevented  him 
from  finding  employment,  and  he  was  thereby  reduced  to 
make-shifts.     Day  before  yesterday  they  came  to  inform 

me  that  Mr.  H was  dying.     Attacked  suddenly  with  a 

terrible  illness,  he  was  sinking.  The  doctor,  called  in  at 
once,  did  not  give  him  an  hour  to  live.  We  relieved  one 
another  in  his  chamber  for  thirty-six  hours,  during  which 
he  was  dying.  *  He  possessed  a  vigorous  intelligence  and  a 
strong  mind.  He  had  no  consciousness,  at  least  in  appear- 
ance, and  we  waited  for  two  nights  and  a  day  his  deliver- 
ance, which  was  momentarily  expected.  He  died  to-day  at 
four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Burials  here  are  only  made 
at  night.  The  heat  prevents  the  body  being  kept  as  long 
as  in  Europe,  and  the  French  consul  requested  all  the  French 
and  myself  to  come  to  the  Hotel  Marcadet,  from  whence  we 
will  accompany  the  corpse  to  the  cemetery.  Two  hours 
after  his  death  the  body  was  already  decomposed,  and 
spreading^  its  miasm  in  such  a  manner  that  the  hotel 
keeper  obliged  us  to  take  it  away.  Fortunately  in  the 
court  of  the  hotel  itself  there  is  a  small  circus  where  cock- 
fighting  takes  place— they  have  carried  the  poor  corpse 
there. 

This  evening,  at  midnight,  all  the  French  were  assembled 
at  the  Hotel  Marcadet.  I  was  never  present  at  the  inter- 
ment of  a  foreigner,  dying  far  from  his  country  and  his 
family,  without  having  my  heart  broken  with  grief. 
There  is  also  something  very  affecting  in  this  solidarity  of 
compatriots  who  come  together  to  render  the  last  duties 
to  him  whom  they  have,  perhaps,  never  known,  but  who 
born  like  themselves  on  the  soil  of  their  mother-country, 
they  have  come  to  claim  brotherhood  with  after  death. 

This  poor  departed  one,  whose  history  I  have  learned, 
was  the  son  of  Lieutenant-General  Marquis  de ,  and, 


THE  SAD  BURIAL.  455 

with  his  younger  brother,  occupied  in  the  elevated  sphere 
of  the  military  hierarchy  a  distinguished  rank  in  the 
French  army.  Bashfiilness,  vexation,  disappointment 
caused  by  failure  in  life,  made  him  throw  the  handle  after 

the  hatchet,  and  the  poor  TH ,  an  old  scholar  of  the 

Poly  technique  School,  captain  of  engineers,  led  a  miserable 
existence,  without  hope,  without  any  means  of  escape, 
except  in  suicide,  of  which  he  often  spoke  with  the  sang 
froid  of  a  determined  man.  He  owed  one  year's  boarding 
to  the  keeper  of  the  hotel,  an  honest  Frenchman,  who  did 
not  venture,  knowing  his  poverty,  to  put  him  in  mind  of 
his  debt,  and  took  care  of  him  through  charity. 

The  coffin  was  placed  in  a  flat  hearse,  drawn  by  a  horse, 
and  at  midnight  we  are  on  the  road  to  the  cemetery.  The 
driver  of  the  hearse,  a  peon  with  a  poncho  on,  walks  along- 
side of  the  horse,  the  poor  beast  stumbling  at  every  step. 
The  roads  are  bad,  and  hilly.  He  falls  down.  We  raise 
him  up.  A  little  further  on,  one  of  the  straps  breaks. 
We  stop  for  the  purpose  of  arranging  it.  The  harness  is 
tied  together  with  twine.  We  were  so  foolish  as  to  pay 
the  coachman  in  advance  for  his  journey,  and  this  is  the 
way  we  are  served  for  it.  We  are  stopped  again.  This 
time  it  is  the  halter  which  has  broken.  The  peon  informs 
us  that  the  horse  will  not  be  able  to  go  further.  While  he 
is  pretending  to  sweat  blood  and  water  (to  make  strenuous 
exertions)  to  arrange  the  harness,  I  examine  this  peon.  He 
is  a  tall,  bronzed,  roguish  fellow,  clad  proudly  in  a  reddish 
poncho,  to  which  the  hour,  the  scene,  the  hearse,  the  light  of 
the  moon  ^ive  a  fantastic  aspect.  The  French  consul  has 
employed  him.  He  is  a  good  workman,  but  he  cannot  con- 
tent himself  to  stop  in  the  workshop.  "  Do  you  see,"  said 
he,  with  a  pleasant  seriousness  and  an  innocent  impudence, 

"  I  have  been  one  of  the  executioners  of  R ,  and  I  have 

not  killed  a  few  in  my  life  before  undertaking  to  bury 
them.  I  have  done  it,  and,  frankly,  I  can  only  live  with 
the  dead." 

The  harness  is  too  old  and  the  horse  too  fatigued.  The 
coachman  makes  us  wait,  and  the  delays  are  so  numerous 
that  a  good  old  French  Basque  proposes  (after  having  eased 
his  conscience  by  addressing  in  French  some  kind  words 
to  the  coachman,  who  does  not  understand  one  word  of 


456  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

them)  to  ungear  the  horse  and  to  drag  the  cart  to  the 
cemetery.  ^No  sooner  said  than  done.  And  there  we  are 
pulling  and  pushing.  From  time  to  time  the  inhabitants 
of  the  poor  hovels  which  line  the  road  come  out  on  the 
doorstep  to  look  at  this  procession,  which  has  on  me  the 
eftect  of  a  nightmare.  We  arrive  at  the  chapel  of  the 
cemetery.  We  deposit  the  corpse  in  a  hall,  and  the  custom 
is  to  return  next  morning  to  hear  mass.  A  tottering  old 
man  in  a  black  cap,  with  a  lantern,  opens  the  door,  and, 
after  having  received  the  coffin,  shuts  the  door  and  remains 
with  his  company.  It  is  a  nightmare.  I  shall  not  sleep 
to-night. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

The  desert  of  Atacama  extends  from  the  coast  of  Chili 
as  hi^h  as  the  tropic  to  Bolivia,  a  distance  of  fifty  leagues. 
It  is  in  the  mountains  of  Atacama  that  the  richest  silver 
mine  of  Chili  is  found — ^'la  Buena  Esperanza.'  It  was 
discovered  nineteen  years  ago  (1848),  and  has  yielded  very 
nearly  seventy-five  millions  of  francs.  It  now  yields  an- 
nually an  average  of  from  five  to  six  millions  of  francs, 
and  still  promises  certain  and  infinite  riches,  since  from 
only  the  masses  and  columns  left  in  the  galleries  it  can 
produce  for  many  years.  The  manager,  a  French  engi- 
neer, whose  acquaintance  I  have  made  during  my  short 
sojourn  lately  at  Copiapo,  invited  me  to  pass  some  days 
at  the  mine.  The  distance  from  Copiapo  is  a  hundred 
kilometres  across  the  desert.  I  hesitated ;  but  he  sent  me 
an  excellent  carriage  and  two  horses,  one  of  which  was 
mounted  by  an  experienced  driver,  who  led  the  one  in  the 
carriage,  and,  besides,  established  relays  upon  the  route. 
I  decided  to  go.  Billet  and  myself  left  Copiapo  at  six 
o'clock  in  the  evening.  The  weather  was  magnificent.  La 
Marca,  the  banker,  had  promised  me  a  revolver  (in  case  of 
need),  but  at  the  moment  of  leaving  he  discovered  that  the 


THE  DESER  T  OF  ATA  CAM  A.  457 

pistol  had  been  stolen  from  him  the  evening  before.    Be- 
sides, one  is  rarely  attacked. 

Hardly  are  we  out  of  Copiapo  than  we  find  ourselves 
already  m  that  calcareous  dust,  which  has  the  colour  of 
sand,  and  which  is  so  fatiguing  to  the  eyes.  We  enter  into 
a  gorge.  What  horrible  aridity !  Not  a  blade  of  grass. 
The  mountains  seem  to  bar  the  passage  to  us  at  every 
moment,  so  near  do  they  approach  each  other;  but  we 
wind  around  them.  The  ground  becomes  flat,  and  in  a 
small  plain  we  perceive  some  little  hovels  of  dried  mud 
and  their  paddocks,  surrounded  with  walls  also  of  dried 
mud — ^the  masonry  work  of  which,  made  of  great  square 
blocks,  recalling  that  of  the  Assyrians,  gives  vaguely  rise 
to  thoughts  of  Biblical  ruins,  to  which  the  gray,  burnt 
country  and  the  red  rays  of  the  sun  add  the  aspect  of  a 
Biblical  land.  There  is  a  well  here,  which  explains  the 
few  united  hovels  which  are  called  '  Pueblo  de  Indios'  (In- 
dian village).  No  industry,  no  labour;  we  see  now  and 
then  a  child,  who  looks  at  us  passing  with  an  astonished 
air.  The  father  and  mother,  lying  lazily  in  front  of  the 
cabin,  half  naked,  are  sleeping  or  forgetting  themselves  in 
the  far  nientey  the  former  of  them  smoking  a  cigarette. 
As  for  the  rest,  the  carelessness  of  these  people  is  favoured 
by  the  climate.  It  never  rains ;  it  is  never  cold.  When 
there  is  nothing  more  to  buy  cigarettes  with,  the  father 
makes  a  great  effort  and  goes  to  work,  either  in  the  town 
or  at  the  mine,  and,  when  he  has  earned  a  few  dollars,  he 
returns  to  slumber,  to  eat,  to  smoke  his  cigar,  and  life  thus 
flows  onward  for  them  without  any  event,  without  suffer- 
ing, like  a  sleep. 

The  last  houses  of  *  Pueblo  de  Indios'  have  disappeared. 
We  are  entering  into  the  desert  of  Atacama.  The  moun- 
tains open  before  us ;  their  chains  stretch  themselves  out 
instead  of  surrounding  us,  and  rise  on  each  side  of  a  long 
narrow  plain,  like  a  wall,  a  sort  of  palisade,  tlie  top  of 
which,  illuminated  by  tne  sun,  renders  more  sombre  the 
first  tints  of  twilight  which  begin  to  descend  into  the  plain. 
The  eye  gazes  in  vain  over  this  immense  fliit  and  gray 
surface. 

Our  coachman  looks  often  behind  him.    We  discover 
two  black  points  which  detach  themselves  from  the  hori- 
39 


458  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

zon.  They  are  two  horsemen  who  are  gallopmg.  The 
coachman  watches  their  conduct  with  a  certain -degree  of 
anxiety.  The  night  beecinSj  and  I  cannot  help  regretting 
this  encounter,  and  not  naving  arras.  The  horsemen  are 
drawing  near.  Besides  we  are  not  hasty  in  reassuring  our- 
selves on  seeing  the  two  horsemen  draw  off  to  the  right 
and  bury  themselves  in  a  gorge  where  they  are  lost  to  view. 
We  are  crossing  upon  our  left  and  are  entering  the  gor^e 
of  Taxepote.  The  road  is  horrible,  but  I  am  wrong  m 
saying  road,  for  there  is  none.  The  carriage  rises  over 
fragments  of  rocks,  which  have  rolled  down  from  the 
mountains,  a  chaos,  an  evident  cataclysm. 

There  is  at  some  distance  a  very  rich  copper  mine.  Our 
first  relay  is  at  Chule.  There  is  there  a  well,  and  a  hovel 
inhabited  by  a  Cholo  peon,  who  waters  the  horses  and  mules 
that  come  down  from  the  mines.  The  carts,  laden  with 
argentiferous  stones  which  are  sent  once  a  week  to  Copiapo 
to  he  worked  out,  come  afterwards  to  Chule.  We  perceive, 
on  the  point  of  a  mountain  which  advances  like  a  promon- 
tory before  us,  a  cross.  At  that  spot  a  miner  was  assassi- 
nated by  his  companion.  Both  were  set  at  work  in  this 
region  to  discover  a  mine  spoken  of  in  the  traditions  of  the 
Indians.  They  found  it ;  it  was  very  rich.  After  having 
observed  the  country  with  care  and  established  landmarks 
to  find  again  the  place  of  their  treasure,  they  carefully  con- 
cealed the  entrance  of  the  mine,  in  order  that  no  other  per- 
son might  dispute  the  right  of  their  discovery,  afid  took  the 
road  for  Copiapo,  where,  according  to  law,  they  should 
immediately  present  the  argentiferous  stones,  and  claim  the 
privilege  of  discovery  before  the  judge,  and  have  the  pro- 
perty legally  adjudged  to  them.  Tempted  by  the  demon  of 
cupidity,  one  of  them,  wishing  to  possess  alone  the  whole 
mine,  murdered  his  companion  and  returned  to  Copiapo. 
But  his  victim  was  not  dead ;  he  had  time  to  drag  himself 
as  far  as  'Pueblo  de  Indios,'  where  before  dying  the  un- 
fortunate man  had  time  to  tell  the  name  of  his  assassin. 
The  other  learned  that  he  was  accused,  and,  jumping  upon 
one  of  these  Chilian  horses,  which  seem  never  to  tire,  he 
crossed  in  a  few  hours  the  desert  of  Atacama,  and  did  not 
stop  until  he  had  placed  between  himself  and  his  pursuers 


THE  LOST  MINE.  459 

the  Cordillera  of  the  Andes  and  the  frontier  of  the  Argen- 
tine Republic. 

The  mine  has  since  passed  into  the  condition  of  a  legend 
known  to  all  the  old  miners.  It  has  defied  all  their  re- 
searches ;  they  have  never  been  able  to  find  it.  The  miner, 
condemned  to  death,  lived  many  years  in  the  Argentine  Re- 
public, and  on  many  occasions  sent  to  his  friends  a  rough 
plan  which  he  had  made  from  memory  of  the  mountanjs 
around  the  mine,  and  added  that  the  sun  was  on  his  right 
at  the  hour  for  the  Ave  Maria,  while  he  was  close  to  the 
mine,  and  that  before  night  he  had  had  time  to  go  to  Santo 
Rosa,  but  these  vague  indications  served  only  to  further 
embarrass  the  Catadores,  who  have  finally  given  it  up. 
Besides  this  there  are  many  celebrated  mines  which  have 
been  lost  since  the  conquest  by  the  Europeans. 

Our  horses  begin  to  pant  horribly.  The  road  is  infernal. 
We  are  bounced  to  the  roof,  we  are  thrown  from  right  to 
left,  tossed  about,  etc.  etc.  The  road  becomes  smoother, 
the  stars  and  moon  lighten  up  a  circular  valley  w^hich  is 
surrounded  by  high  mountains.  A  light  before  us!  It 
is  a  lighthouse  in  the  desert,  it  is  the  lantern  of  the  hovel 
of  Chulo.  The  horses  neigh — ^the  poor  beasts  smell  the 
stable — a  dog  barks  in  the  depths  of  the  valley  upon  our 
left.  I  cannot  describe  what  a  singular  charm  I  find  in 
these  noises  which  banish  in  a  moment  all  the  sombre 
clouds  which  the  aridity  of  the  country,  the  solitudes  of  the 
desert  of  Atacama,  and  the  recitals  of  assassination  which  I 
had  just  heard,  of  murders  committed  by  miners,  had  evoked 
in  my  mind.  The  hovel  is  preceded  by  a  shed,  under  which 
the  peons  sleep,  ruid  around  which  the  horses,  mules,  cows, 
and  goats  wander  at  liberti^.  There  is  in  the  interior  but  one 
inhabitable  chamber.  It  is  reserved  for  us.  P yester- 
day sent  to  inform  the  innkeeper  about  our  coming,  which 
explains  the  luxury  which  is  displayed.  Two  wax  candles 
are  on  a  white  wooden  table ;  'the  walls  are  covered  with 
illustrations  of  the  Correo  d'Altramar.  A  large  man,  whose 
abdomen,  poorly  restrained  by  pantaloons  which  reach  half 
way  down  his  legs,  and  permit  his  shirt  (evidently  put  on 
in  honour  of  us)  to  swell  out  like  a  smock-frock — naked 
feet,  humble  fat  face,  subdued,  timid,  and  jovial,  bids  us 
welcome.    He  loses  himself  in  salutations.    He  evidently 


460  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

does  not  know  who  we  are,  but  Don  Carlos  ^the  director 
of  the  mine)  having  the  evening  before  sent  him  orders  to 
prepare  supper  for  us,  to  make  our  beds,  and  to  entertain 
us  with  all  the  respect  due  to  persons  of  high  importance, 
he  does  his  best  so  that  Don  Carlos  maybe  pleased  with  him. 
The  good  man  informs  us  that  he  can  give  us  a  beefsteak  of 
fresh  meat,  he  has  also  fresh  effgs  and  goats'  milk.  We 
have  a  ravenous  appetite,  and  the  meal  is  quickly  served 
up  on  a  small  white  wooden  table.  On  each  side  there  is  a 
cot  bedstead  with  coverlets  and  mattress,  an  unheard  of 
luxury,  but  which  my  travelling  experience  has  accustomed 
me  to  distrust.  We  go  to  take  a  look  at  the  kitchen.  It 
is  a  shed  covered  with  a  few  mats  of  plaited  straw.  The 
fireplace,  a  large  fragment  of  rock  upon  which  are  burning, 
between  two  large  stones  which  serve  for  andirons,  some 
firebrands,  branches  of  dried  wood.  The  wife  of  the  inn- 
keeper cuts  some  slices  of  meat  from  a  large  piece  of  beef. 
We  request  her  not  to  put  too  many  onions  in  it  (they  put 
them  here  in  every  thing),  and  particularly  not  to  drown 
the  beefsteak  in  grease. 

Our  coachman  has  taken  possession  of  the  kitchen.  We 
are  to  set  out  again  at  one  o'clock ;  it  is  now  ten.  The 
moon,  although  only  in  the  first  quarter,  will  give  us 
enough  light  for  our  journey.  Besides  the  natives  of  the 
country  have  the  instinct  of  savages,  to  find  a  place  again, 
and  for  following  the  rut  of  caravans  in  the  desert,  even  in 
the  most  profound  darkness. 

Supper  is  served  up.  The  poor  man  is  evidently  worried 
about  the  judgment  which  his  patrons  may  pass  upon  his 
wife's  culinary  talents.  His  large  face  brightens  when  we 
tell  him  that  his  beefsteak  is  eatable* 

"  Have  you  any  coftee  ?"  we  ask.  "  Yes,"  he  replied, "  I 
have  some  Costa  Rica."  Billet  made  the  cofifee  himself. 
It  is  the  best  founded  of  his  pretensions.  I  believe  he 
thinks  more  of  his  reputation  as  a  coftee-maker,  than  that 
of  concert  violoncellist. 

"  The  coftee  is ,  I  cannot  express  it,"  said  Billet, 

sipping  it.  The  goat's  milk  is  altogether  exquisite.  We 
have  excellent  cigars.  You  can  hardly  have  an  idea  how 
well  oft*  we  are,  seated  on  the  sill  of  the  hovel,  with  the 
starry  heavens  above  us. 

(Unfinished.) 


DETAILS  OF  MANNERS.  461 

Caldeba,  Chili,  April  12. 

The  incidents  which  occur  in  a  travelhng  artist's  career 
are  almost  always  the  same.  They  at  first  seem  interesting 
through  their  novelty,  but  as  they  are  constantly  repeated 
they  become  a  part  of  the  monotony  of  the  daily  routine. 
It  is  true,  that,  for  foreigners  who  are  not  acquainted  with 
these  countries,  there  are  at  every  step,  in  the  most  ordinary 
things,  in  the  smallest  details,  apparently  indifferent,  a 
thousand  interesting  observations  and  curious  studies  to 
take  notice  of;  but  for  myself,  whom  habitude  has  rendered 
callous,  and  whose  curiosity  has  become  deadened,  I  dis- 
cover nothing  here  which  does  not  seem  to  me  normal, 
and  it  is  only  by  recalling  my  remembrances  of  Europe,  by 
the  comparison  of  the  maimers  of  the  old  world  with  those 
of  these  societies  hardly  at  the  commencement  of  civiliza- 
tion, that  I  can  seize  on  the  picturesque  or  barbarous  side 
of  the  men  and  things  which  surround  me.  I  no  longer 
keep  my  journal  so  carefully.  The  constant  repetition  of 
the  same  incidents  tires  me  by  its  monotony.  To  arrive, 
to  pass  through  the  invariable  routine ;  visits  to  the  editors 
of  daily  papers ;  to  the  artists — ^to  smile  obsequiously, 
efforts  of  mind  and  body ;  in  one  word  to  perform  all  those 
manoeuvres  which  are  indispensable  to  the  artist's  success ; 
preparatory  seances  before  some  judges  of  the  elite ;  to  beg 
for  the  good-will  of  pretentious  and  all-powerful  fools, 
are  the  preparations  on  arrival.  I  pass  over  the  mechani- 
cal part.,  the  concerts.  More  follows  the  departure  with 
the  inseparable  accompaniment  of  adieus,  of  bills  to  settle, 
trunks  to  pack,  and  h  otra  'parte  con  la  musica. 

Life  at  Copiapo  is  dull  and  tiresome  generally,  but  it  is 
particularly  so  at  present  on  account  of  the  approach  of 
Lent. 

1867. 

Left  Copiapo  on  the  twenty-sixth  of  April  at  four  o'clock 
P.  M.,  and  left  Valparaiso  again  on  the  thirtieth  of  April. 

Great  animation  on  board.     All  the  highest  merchants 

come  to  accompany  E ,  who  is  married  this  morning 

with  a  young  German  girl.  Miss  0 .    I  disappear  for 

39* 


462  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

three  days,  during  which  I  pass  through  the  old  tortures 
which  you  are  acquainted  with.  Our  voyage  so  far  is  pleas- 
ant. We  shall  pass  through  the  Strait  of  Magellan.  The 
seventh,  in  the  morning,  we  are  in  sight  of  land,  followed 
without  interruption  by  high  mountains  regular  and  bald, 
a  desolate  country,  without  the  least  trace  of  inhabitant. 
The  weather  is  cold  and  rainy,  the  sky  is  gray,  the  rolling 
sea  has  a  leaden  tint  which  renders  this  desolate  nature 
still  more  sad.  It  seems  we  have  passed  the  entrance  of  the 
strait.  We  must  retrace  our  steps.  This  coast  is  uniform, 
and  presents  no  point  of  reference  to  the  eye,  which  makes  the 
task  of  piloting  very  difficult.  Besides  we  have  against  us 
a  cloudy  sky  which  prevents  our  taking  the  height  of  the 
sun.  Hurrah  !  it  is  noon;  we  are  going  at  full  speed  to- 
wards the  strait,  of  which  we  at  last  have  found  the  entrance. 
The  two  shores  approach  each  other  little  by  little.  The 
country  is  still  desolate,  the  silence  eternal.  We  perceive 
a  little  smoke  on  the  left  shore,  probably  a  fire  lighted  by 
some  Indian.  The  few  inhabitants  of  these  desolate  regions 
are  nomads,  and  ferocious.  They  are  the  Fuegians,  inhabi- 
tants of  Terra  del  Fuego  (the  land  of  fire).  They  are 
stunted,  very  ugly,  etc.  etc.  Chili  possesses  a  military 
penal  colony  at  Punta  Arena.  We  shall  be  there  to-mor- 
row. The  navigation  being  very  dangerous  we  shall  stop 
to-night.  The  sea  is  as  smooth  as  a  mirror,  the  spectacle  is 
grand ;  the  setting  sun  bathes  the  snowy  tops  of  the  moun- 
tains in  a  flood  of  light  which  renders  the  sides  of  them 
still  more  gloomy.     We  cast  anchor. 

May  18. 

In  sight  of  Punta  Arena  and  can  distinguish  a  few 
houses  and  two  English  steamers  at  anchor  opposite  the 
colony.  A  canoe  leaves  the  shore  and  comes  out  to  us. 
It  is  the  governor  of  the  colony,  Mr.  Riobo.  He  comes  to 
see  if  we  have  not  some  correspondence  for  Punta  Arena. 
Our  desire  to  see  the  Patagonians  suggests  the  idea  of 
requesting  of  the  governor  a  canoe  to  go  on  shore,  which 
he  grants  us  with  the  most  gracious  condescension,  only  the 
number  of  the  curious  being  greater  than  the  capacity  of 
the  canoe,  it  is  agreed  that  we  shall  divide  ourselves  into 
two  parties.     The  first  batch  has  just  left ;  the  canoe  will 


THE  FUEGIANS.  468 

return  for  us  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening.  The  chap- 
lain of  the  colony,  a  Franciscan  in  frock  and  hood,  comes 
to  go  on  board.  An  honest  Englishman  naively  asks  if  he 
is  a  Patagonian. 

We  are  embarking  in  the  canoe,  the  governor  accom- 
panying us.  We  are  passing  before  thfe  Spiteful,  an 
English  corvette  which  watches  the  coast  and  takes 
soundings.  A  few  days  ago  two  of  the  officers  embarked 
in  a  canoe  with  which  they  proceeded  along  the  coast  in 
the  latitude  which  we  had  just  passed.  Many  Fuegians 
came  to  meet  them.  The  officers  offered  them  some 
trifles,  buttons,  handkerchiefs,  etc.,  to  conciliate  them, 
which  they  accepted  with  marks  of  contentment,  but  when 
the  officers  turned  towards  the  shore  to  rejoin  their  canoe 
the  Fuegians  undertook  to  prevent  them.  A  fight  took 
place;  the  two  officers  were  armed  with  revolvers  and 
killed  several  Indians,  but  they  received  a  volley  of  arrows, 
two  of  which  wounded  them  very  seriously.  I  have  had 
an  opportunity  of  examining  these  arrows,  they  are  very 
small,  the  end  is  a  pointed  stone  and  is  very  slightly  at- 
tached to  the  wood,  so  that  when  an  attempt  is  made  to 
draw  them  from  the  wound  the  stone  remains  behind. 

These  Fuegians  are  cannibals.      Some  years   ago  the 

fovemor  of  the  colony,  a  German,  Doctor  Phillipi,  was 
illed  and  eaten  bv  them. 

We  land  at  a  quay  which  the  governor  has  just  con- 
structed. The  night  is  dark,  but  the  stars  are  shining. 
I  cannot  explain  with  my  pen  the  strange  feeling  which 
I  experienced  on  landing  on  this  Austral  land  one  hundred 
miles  from  Cape  Horn,  m  the  Strait  of  Magellan  in  Pata- 
gonia, at  the  antipodes  of  civilization. 

The  governor,  Mr.  Riobo,  has  passed  many  years  in  Paris. 
He  is  a  perfectly  polished  gentleman,  who  performs  the  hon- 
ours of  his  little  kingdom  Tike  a  man  accustomed  to  the  best 
society.  He  precedes  us  on  the  road.  The  ground  is 
covered  with  short  hard  grass;  it  seems  as  if  we  were 
walking  on  a  carpet.  We  hear  the  noise  of  some  voices ; 
it  is  from  a  group  in  the  darkness  on  the  road.  "  Who  goes 
there?"  it  is  the  passengers  by  the  first  canoe  returning  on 
board  after  having  explored  the  whole  of  the  colony. 

"I  am  taking  you  to  the  palace  of  the  government,"  said 


464  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

Mr.  Riobo.  We  go  up  a  flight  of  steps  to  a  street  about 
one  hundred  yards  in  length, — the  street  Maria,  etc.,  from 
the  name,  I  believe,  of  a  Chilian  frigate.  This  street  is 
lined  with  small  painted  wooden  houses.  It  is  Punta 
Arenas.  There  are  four  hundred  inhabitants,  divided  in 
the  following  manner,  sixty  soldiers  of  the  regular  troops, 
one  hundred  children  and  women,  the  balance  composed 
of  transported  colons,  for  the  most  part  soldiers  guilty  of 
desertion,  who  are  labourers,  carpenters,  blacksmiths,  etc. 
The  impossibility  of  flight  has  relaxed  much  of  the 
severity  of  their  captivity.  A  young  Englishman  (there 
are  three  in  the  colony),  a  soldier  of  the  Chilian  navy  who 
deserted,  and  has  been  banished  here,  assures  me  that  he  is 
well  contented  with  his  fate. 

We  reach  a  small  house  a  little  larger  than  the  others, 
which  has  a  garden  in  front  surrounded  with  a  wooden 
paling;  it  is  the  palace  of  the  government.  The  governor 
takes  a  whistle  from  his  pocket  and  whistles.  In  a 
moment,  all  that  little  world  which  seemed  asleep  is 
awakened.  A  clarion  sounds  a  call.  The  barrack  is 
opposite,  and  we  see  suddenly  issuing  from  the  depths  of 
obscurity  a  sergeant  and  several  soldiers  with  lanterns, 
who  hasten  to  receive  the  governor's  orders.  We  traverse 
the  little  garden,  in  which,  by  the  light  of  a  lantern,  we 
succeed  in  plucking  some  very  pretty  uttle  dwarf  roses  but 
without  perfume.  The  governor  introduces  us  to  his  com- 
panions, first  to  his  secretary,  then  to  two  little  American 
lions  (leopards),  charming  little  animals,  which,  although 
only  one  month  old,  show  very  pretty  claws  and  teeth, 
which  make  me  augur  the  future  dispositions  of  these 
innocent  felines  which  the  governor  proposes  to  shut  up  in 
cages  in  the  course  of  a  few  days.  They  are  of  the  size  of 
a  cat.  Then  also  two  guanacos  running  at  liberty,  one  male 
and  one  female.  The  guanaco  has  a  body  the  colour  of  a 
deer,  but  with  a  neck  immoderately  long,  reminding  one  of 
the  girafte.  It  is  a  ruminant,  whose  flesh  is  delicate  and 
whose  fleece  puts  one  in  mind  of  the  llamas.  It  only 
attacks  men  when  it  is  on  the  defensive,  and  is  very  for- 
midable. It  then  throws  itself  on  its  assailant,  knocks 
him  down  with  one  blow  and  bites  him. 

The  governor  escaped  by  a  miracle  from  one  of  the  two 


PATAGONIANS.  465 

animals  at  which  we  are  looking.  When  the  guanaco  is 
furious,  he  ejects  a  greenish  saliva,  which  is  very  unpleasant. 

Separated  from  the  rest  of  the  worid,  the  governor  has 
devoted  himself  to  the  well-being  of  his  little  colony.  His 
communications  with  the  rest  of  the  world  being  uncer- 
tain, it  sometimes  happens  that  for  entire  months  he  is 
without  news  from  Chili. 

Game  is  very  abundant.     Ostriches  and  guanacos  abound. 

Admiral   P ,  who   lately  passed  through   the   strait, 

amused  himself  for  some  hours,  with  his  officers,  in  hunt- 
ing, and  they  .filled  a  canoe  with  their  game. 

The  governor  showed  us  some  specimens  of  coal,  which 
appeared  excellent;  also  some  fragments  of  auriferous 
quartz,  found  in  the  mountains  of  Patagonia. 

But  I  hasten  to  arrive  at  the  most  interesting  episode  of 
our  visit  at  Punta.  The  governor  has  sent  for  a  family  of 
Patagonians.  I  cannot  describe  the  impression  which  these 
singular  beings  caused  me.  The  first  group  to  which  we 
are  introduced  by  the  governor,  is  composed  of  three  men 
and  one  young  woman.  The  first,  one  in  particular,  is 
very  much  above  the  ordinary  height,  but  is  not  gigantic. 
That  which  is  particularly  striking,  is  the  prodigious  de- 
velopment of  the  bust,  the  length  of  the  arms,  and  the 
enormous  size  of  the  head  and  features.  The  nose  of  the 
largest  is  at  least  one-third  larger  than  the  largest  European 
nose  that  I  have  ever  seen.  The  head  is  enormous,  but  not 
monstrous.  The  features  are  in  proportion  to  the  head. 
As  to  the  woman,  she  is  at  least  six  feet  high.  She  is  a 
young  girl  of  fourteen  or  fifteen  years,  admirably  propor- 
tioned, slender,  with  a  marvellously  beautiful  face ;  Grecian 
statuary  in  its  purest  expression  has  never  formulated  any- 
thing more  beautiful.  The  mouth  exquisitely  chiselled,  of 
bright  red,  reveals  on  opening  the  whitest,  most  polished, 
and  the  prettiest  teeth  that  I  have  ever  seen.  Kanucha  is 
the  most  colossal  and  the  most  beautiful  girl  in  the  world. 
But  here  I  am  very  much  embarrassed  in  front  of  this 
beautiful  Caryatide,  who  tenders  me  a  charming,  though 
large,  hand,  and  shakes  with  a  coquettish  movement  of  her 
head  her  copper  ear-pendants,  of  which  she  seems  to  be 
particularly  proud.  How  shall  I  undertake  to  tell  it  you? 
kanucha,  the  beautiful  girl,  is  a  handsome  boy!     The 


466  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

governor  tells  me  he  is  a  youth  that  all  the  Patagonians 
despise,  because  he  has  all  the  instincts  of  a  woman,  dresses 
like  one,  sews,  squats  down,  walks  and  acts  like  one.  I 
cannot,  without  regret,  renounce  beholding  a  young  girl,  in 
a  form  so  elegant,  a  head  so  fine,  and  manners  so  coquettish. 

We  ofter  some  cigars  to  these  gentlemen,  which  they 
eagerly  smoke.  In  opposition  to  their  ferocious  neighbours, 
the  Patagonians  possess  a  docility  which  is  rendered  very 
striking  from  their  athletic  forms  and  colossal  proportions. 
The  dress  of  these  poor  people  consists  of  one  or  several 
skins  of  the  guanacos,  the  fur  of  which  is  .turned  inside. 
Kothing  more.  It  is  a  simple  mantle  which  the  women 
fasten  on  the  chest,  by  a  long  copper  pin,  and  which  is 
worn  open  by  the  men,  notwithstanding  the  cold,  which 
is  piercing.  Their  legs  and  feet  are  also  as  naked  as  their 
head.  They  are  very  proud  of  wearing  a  trinket  around 
their  forehead  like  a  fillet  or  diadem.  Like  all  Indians, 
unfortunately,  they  are  addicted  to  drink.  For  them  ardent 
liquors  represent  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  happiness.  They  pre- 
fer a  bottle  of  brandy  before  everything.  It  is  not  a  rare 
thing  to  see  a  husband  offer,  with  the  wife's  consent,  the 
latter  to  one  of  the  colons  for  a  certain  time,  to  procure  a 
few  bottles,  which  both  of  them  eo  off  to  swallow  imme- 
diately. They  are  not  pleased  with  gold.  They  prefer  the 
pesos  of  silver,  because  they  are  larger,  and  the  gold  is  too 
small.  They  live  the  life  of  nomads — in  small  groups, 
but  without  government  or  religion.  Family  ties  even 
have  no  existence,  since  very  frequently  one  or  two  mem- 
bers of  a  group  will  desert  and  join  for  a  time  another. 
Their  character  is  generally  mild,  but  when  drunk  they  be- 
come ferocious.  When  any  one  among  them  dies,  they  bum 
everything  which  belonged  to  him,  and  kill  his  horse  upon 
his  grave.  The  flesh  of  the  horse  is  immediately  eaten. 
Liquor,  finally,  is  the  object  of  all  their  ambitions,  of  all 
their  desires.  Many  colons  have  asked  me  if  I  would  not 
like  to  sell  them  a  few  bottles  of  it.  They  are  going  on 
board  for  the  same  purpose. 

The  report  of  our  arrival  has  spread.  A  second  squad 
of  Patagonians  enter.  It  is  the  queen,  Nata,  a  woman  of 
thirty  years  of  age,  surrounded  by  several  children :  her 
nose  arched  like  the  beak  of  a  bird  of  prey,  gives  a  hard 


BUENOS  A  YRES.  467 

appearance  to  her  enormous  face,  but  on  examination  one 
discovers  a  mild  and  charming  expression  in  it.  The 
features  possess  an  admirable  purity.  She  carries  in  her 
arms  a  little  one,  a  baby  of  fifteen  months,  as  large  as  a 
child  of  ten  years  of  age,  whose  robust  body,  notwith- 
standing the  cold,  is  completely  naked. 

Buenos  Atbes,  January  13, 1868. 

Notwithstanding  the  heat  (one  hundred  and  six  degrees 
above  the  zero  of  Fahrenheit's  thermometer),  notwith- 
standing, the  war  of  Paraguay,  which  has  already  cost  the 
four  belligerent  parties  nearly  two  hundred  thousand  men, 
three-fourths  of  whom  have  been  destroyed  by  cholera, 
typhus,  dysentery,  and  pestilence;  notwithstanding  the 
commercial  crisis,  one  of  the  first  effects  of  which  has 
been  at  Montevideo  the  enforcement  of  a  paper  currency; 
notwithstanding  the  civil  war  in  the  interior  provinces  of 
the  republic;  notwithstanding  the  invasion  of  the  frontiers 
by  Saa,  Varela,  and  I  know  not  how  many  ot^er  brigands 
who  live  ouly  by  rapine,  and  whose  title  of  general,  which 
they  assume,  would  not  in  any  other  countries  than  these 
save  from  the  gallows  or  the  galleys  which  they  have  a 
thousand  times  deserved;  notwithstanding  all  these  calami- 
ties, the  company  of  Parisian  bouffes,  brought  to  Buenos 
Ayres  by  Mr.  D'Hote,  has  made  its  debut  at  the  Argentine 
theatre  in  the  bavards  of  Offenbach. 

I  suspect  that  the  LatiA  proverb  is  wrong  for  once — and 
their  audacity  will  not,  I  fear,  be  crowned  with  success. 
The  company  is,  however,  far  from  being  unworthy  of  the 

public  favour.     Mademoiselle  R ,  the  prima-donna,  is 

pretty  and  sings  well;  Mr.  R.,  the  tenor,  is  an  excellent 
actor;  Mademoiselle  B.  dances  prettv  well,  and  has  fine 
legs;  Mr.  D'Hote  himself  is  a  splendid  comic  actor.  But 
these  ladies  and  gentlemen  had  not  even  seen  the  footlights 
of  the  Argentine  theatre  before  they  knew  to  what  cause  to 
attribute  their  non-success. 

February  3. 

My  health  is  passable.  I  have  had  to  go  to  the  country 
to  escape  the  cholera  which  was  here.  Almost  twenty-eight 
thousand  persons  have  died  of  it  within  three  months. 


468  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

It  is  horrible.     Happily  it  has  almost  disappeared.     Natu- 
rally there  are  no  concerts,  every  family  being  in  mourning. 

February  11. 

Political  events  have  broken  up  the  monotony  of  our 
existence. 

I  do  not  know  if  I  have  already  spoken  of  the  son  of  the 
dictator  Flores,  of  Montevideo,  who  has  acquired  through 
his  misdeeds  the  sad  celebrity  of  a  bandit.  His  name  is 
Fortunato  Flores,  he  is  the  old  bogy  of  Montevideo.  Small 
and  great  tremble  on  hearing  this  graceful  name,  which,  by 
a  singular  chance,  seems  to  be  the  perfect  antithesis  of  the 
ferocious  character  of  the  one  who  bears  it.  Fortunato 
Flores,  literally  translated,  means  Fortunate  Flowers.  Since 
my  arrival  at  Montevideo  I  have  been  edified  respecting  his 
character.  They  related  to  me  his  numerous  extravagances, 
the  peaceable  and  inoffensive  persons  of  the  middle  classes 
whom  he  had  assassinated,  the  boxes  on  the  ear  which  he  had 
given  to  a  Frenchwoman,  and  his  orgies,  which  invariably 
terminated  by  shots  from  his  revolvers.  Chance  threw 
me  in  the  way  of  the  amiable  Fortunato.  It  was  easy  for 
me  to  see  from  the  manner  in  which  he  spoke  to  me  that 
he  would  have  been  happy  to  have  quarrelled  with  me,  but 
my  imperturbable  politeness  and  also,  perhaps,  the  salutary 
fear  which  the  United  States  inspires  in  all  these  tyrants, 
had  its  effect  upon  him.  I  had  the  pleasure  of  not  seeing 
him  draw  his  revolver.  Since  thdn  he  has  become  somewhat 
gentle  with  me,  and  having  one  day  played  for  him  in  a 
concert  the  national  air  of  Uruguay,  I  ended  by  making 
a  conquest  of  him.  Three  or  four  months  ago  Mr.  Fortunato, 
finding  fault  with  the  politics  of  the  minister  of  foreign 
aftairs,  went  to  his  house  and  gave  him  a  caning.  Then, 
under  the  influence  of  some  old  spite  which  he  preserved 
against  a  certain  oflicer,  he  sent  some  soldiers  of  his  regiment 
to  seek  him,  garroted  him,  pricked  him  with  bayonets, 
with  a  choke-pear  in  his  mouth  to  take  from  him  even  the 
comfort  of  crymg,  put  him  with  a  manacle  on  his  neck  into 
a  subterranean  dungeon  for  twenty-eight  hours  without  the 
least  light,  without  giving  him  anything  to  drink,  or  to 
eat,  ana  making  him  oelieve  that  he  was  left  there  to  die  of 
hunger,  and  that  neither  his  family  nor  any  one  else  in  the 


FOR  TUNA  TO  FL  ORES.  469 

world  would  ever  know  what  had  become  of  him.  After 
many  other  tortures  he  gave  him  a  kick  and  sent  him  oft*. 
He  had  already  been  guilty  of  so  many  robberies,  that,  in 
spite  of  the  terror  which  he  mspired,  and  of  the  number  of  in- 
dividuals which  he  had  with  his  own  hand  despatched  to  the 
other  world,  a  general  cry  of  indignation  was  heard  from 
everywhere,  ana  the  papa  of  this  amiable  young  man  hinted 
to  Fortunato  that  State  reasons  required  that  he  should  have 
a  change  of  air.  He  left  for  France.  His  exile  was  to  last 
two  years.  He  remained  seven  days  in  Europe;  and  two 
months  and  a  half  after  his  departure  from  Montevideo, 
what  was  the  general  consternation  on  seeing  one  fine  morn- 
ing Fortunato  descend  from  the  Enerlish  vessel  arriving  from 
Europe.  Soon  after  he  betook  hmaself  to  his  old  ways. 
Restored  by  his  own  authority  to  the  grade  of  colonel,  he 
began  to  keep  his  hand  in  by  torturing  his  soldiers  and  his 
ofticers.  One  night  he  took  a  fancy  to  invite  several  per- 
sons to  supper.  Hardly  had  the  dessert  come  on  when  he 
became,  as  usual,  furiously  drunk,  and  gave  an  order  to  his 
aid-de-camp  to  seize  his  guests  and  send  them  to  pass  the 
night  in  the  guard-house.  This  took  place  at  the  hotel 
where  I  lodged. 

The  whole  night  the  other  boarders  and  myself  were  on 
the  alert  because  Fortunato  had  proposed  firing  his  pistol 
in  the  corridors.  He  broke  three  hundred  tumblers,  as 
manv  plates,  all  the  looking  glasses,  and  did  not  retire 
until  exhausted  by  drunkenness  and  fatigue  he  left  to  go  to 
bed.  His  young  brothers  (the  youngest  is  seventeen  years 
old)  accompanied  him  that  night  as  usual  (they  are  also  bad 
like  him,  but  less  satiated  than  their  elder  brother),  went 
to  an  aristocratic  club  where  they  knew  the  political  adver- 
saries of  their  father  met ;  as  they  anticipated,  one  of  them, 
an  honourable  and  venerable  father  of  a  family,  rich  and  of 
the  better  class,  was  playing  at  billiards  at  the  moment 
when  they  entered.  Y  oung  Flores,  the  one  seventeen  years 
old,  struck  him  a  hard  blow  with  a  cue  which  stretched  him 
on  the  floor,  pulled  out  some  of  his  whiskers,  kicked  him  in 
the  face  with  his  boots,  and  went  away,  leaving  him  bathed 
in  blood  and  unconscious. 

Since  my  departure  from  Motevideo  I  heard  at  small 
intervals  the  fresh  misdeeds  of  Fortunato  and  his  brothers 
40 


470  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

spoken  of:  some  broken  heads,  women  outraged,  and  other 
similar  peccadilloes,  but  no  assassinations,  leading  me  to 
hope  that  these  gentlemen  were  mending.  All  at  once 
three  days  ago,  the  submarine  telegraph,  which  crosses  the 
bay  and  connects  Montevideo  and  Buenos  Ayres,  brings  us 
the  following  news :  Fortunato  and  his  brothers  have  risen 
against  their  father^  have  gained  over  the  garrison^  and  ove)^- 
turned  General  Flores^  who  has  been  obliged  to  abandon  the 
town  and  has  fled  to  Union^  two  leagues  from  Montevideo. 
The  details  soon  reached  us.  Fortunato,  tired  of  the  inac- 
tion in  which  the  old  dictator  left  him,  had  had  a  very 
excited  discussion  with  him,  at  the  end  of  which  he  boxed 
his  father's  ears.  Hurrying  to  his  barracks,  he  came  with 
his  brothers  at  the  head  of  his  regiment  and  seized  all  the 
posts,  through  the  cowardice  or  the  defection  of  those  who 
guarded  them ;  the  whole  band  marched  to  the  Hotel  de 
Ville  where  Flores  and  all  his  family  had  fled.  In  vain 
the  old  wife  of  Flores,  a  very  vulgar  woman,  formerly  a 
washerwoman,  whose  blind  idolatry  for  Fortunato  is  the 
only  source  of  his  bad  instincts,  threw  herself  at  the  feet  of 
this  wretch.  "  I  do  not  know  you,"  he  cried  out  to  her. 
"  Do  you  forget,"  cried  out  to  him  the  old  general,  "  that  I 
am  not  only  your  chief,  that  before  being  the  first  magis- 
trate of  the  republic,  I  was  your  father  ?"  "Get  out  of  the 
way,"  replied  Fortunato  to  him,  "or  I  will  fire  upon  you 
all."  And  the  little  brothers,  infuriated,  brandished  their 
swords  to  excite  their  soldiers,  for  the  most  part  drunk. 
Poor  old  Flores,  with  downcast  head,  and  strangling  his 
tears,  retreated  and  fled,  with  some  forty  faithful  followers, 
to  conceal  himself,  as  I  have  said,  to  Union,  and  the  whole 
town  remained  at  the  mercy  of  the  revolutionists.  But  the 
foreign  population,  which  is  infinitely  more  numerous  at 
Montevideo  than  that  of  the  natives,  were  justly  alarmed. 
They  had  a  right  to  be  alarmed  at  such  brigands.  The 
diplomatic  corps  met  and  were  deliberating  as  to  what  means 
should  be  taken  to  protect  the  property  and  lives  of  for- 
eigners, when  the  news  arrived  that  Fortunato  had  forced 
the  custom-house  stores,  and  seized  all  the  boxes  and  bales 
which  were  shut  up  there,  to  make  barricades  of.  The 
foreign  ministers  immediately  transmitted  to  their  respec- 
tive admirals  an  order  to  land  their  troops.    The  Ameri- 


AUDACITY  OF  F0RTC7NAT0.  471 

cans,  the  Italians,  the  English,  the  Spaniards,  the  Brazilians 
disembarked  and  took  possession  of  the  custom-house  and 
the  legations.  Fortunato,  whose  audacity  has  no  limits, 
notijiea  them  to  dislodge  immediately  under  pain  of  seeing 
themselves  attacked  by  the  troops  under  his  orders.  "  Come,  * 
if  you  dare,"  was  the  response  of  the  admirals.  The  hero 
found  it  wiser  not  to  try  the  adventure,  and  shut  him- 
self up  in  a  little  fort  which  he  barricaded,  and  whose 
avenues  were  guarded  by  cannons.  Recovered  from  their 
panic,  father  Flores  and  his  faithful  followers  rallied  other 
soldiers  and  foreigners.  They  returned  to  Montevideo, 
The  attitude  of  the  foreigners  was  too  resolute  for  Fortu- 
nato not  to  understand  that  he  had  lost  the  game.  He 
consented  to  a  parley.  The  cunning  fellow  had  taken 
care  to  keep  as  hostage  an  old  man,  General  Balle,  minister 
of  war,  and  signified  that  if  his  propositions  were  not 
acceded  to,  he  would  shoot  his  prisoner,  and  would  not  sur- 
render until  after  fighting  to  the  last  extremity.  Father 
Flores  was  obliged  to  accept.  They  agreed  not  to  take  the 
life  of  any  of  the  rebels,  to  give  thirty  thousand  dollars 
to  Fortunato,  and  permit  him  to  embark,  with  his  oflScers, 
without  being  molested,  and  since  yesterday  we  have  had 
the  honour  of  having  the  celebrated  colonel  with  us.  I  met 
him  yesterday  in  the  street.  I  was  hoping  that  he  would 
not  know  me,  but  as  soon  as  he  saw  me  he  ran  towards  me 
extending  his  arms,  and  willing  or  unwilling,  I  had  to  re- 
ceive his  hug. 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

February  13,  1868. 

Fortunato  re-embarked  the  very  evening  of  our  ren- 
contre. It  appears  tliat  he  assassinated  a  Frenchman  here 
a  year  ago,  and  the  aflair  having  been  brought  to  the  notice 
of  the  Argentine  government  by  the  consul  of  France, 
as  soon  as  he  learned  of  the  arrival  of  the  celebrated  colonel, 
the  latter  found  it  more  prudent  to  pack  oft'.    He  is  on 


472  NOTES  OF  A  PIAJ^IST. 

board  an  Italian  frigate,  and  leaves  for  Europe  to-day  or 
to-morrow  by  the  English  steamer.  He  will  soon  be  spoken 
of  in  Europe,  for,  with  the  character  which  I  know  he 
possesses,  he  will  quickly  make  himself  known.  A  propos^ 
'in  speaking  of  politics,  I  cannot  help  relating  the  ignomin- 
ious Ml  of  Prado,  the  dictator  of  Peru,  whom  his  old 
accomplices  in  the  revolution  which  he  engaged  in  to 
arrive  at  power,  during  my  sojourn  at  Lima,  have  over- 
turned and  conquered  in  a  battle  before  Arequipa,  in  which 
he  showed  himself  as  cowardly  as  he  had  shown  himself 
up  to  this  time  insolent  and  despotic.  He  is  a  wretch  who 
has  Indian,  mulatto,  and  Andalusian  blood  in  his  veins ; 
but  has  taken  from  these  diverse  races  only  their  worst 
traits.  I  cordially  detest  him.  A  personal  enmity  sepa- 
rates both  of  us.  I  have  had  to  sufter  from  his  despotism 
and  barbarism,  and  only  escaped  the  prison,  one  day  that 
he  sent  twenty  soldiers  to  arrest  me,  by  my  firmness,  and 
the  threat  which  I  made  him  to  make  myself  be  diplomat- 
ically reclaimed  by  my  minister.  The  fear  which  these 
brigands  have  of  American  cannons  is  the  only  safeguard 
that  we  citizens  of  the  United  States  find  in  these  hostile 
and  dangerous  countries. 

In  Bolivia,  a  revolution  has  just  broken  out  against  that 
furiously  mad  tiger,  Malgarejo,  dictator  of  that  unfortunate 
country  for  the  last  five  or  six  years.  What  republics! 
What  scorn  and  what  outrage  upon  the  principles  of  liberty, 
equality,  and  fraternity  are  cast  by  these  pseudo-presidents 
of  democracies,  who  trample  upon  right,  justice,  and 
equality  in  order  to  wallow  in  those  turpitudes  which 
recall  the  decadence  of  Rome  and  the  saturnalia  of  the 
lower  empire ! 

Buenos  Ayres,  February  13,  1868. 

A  priest  lately  died  in  a  neighbouring  village ;  no  one 
was  willing  to  bury  him  from  fear  of  the  contagion. 
Nevertheless,  the  odour  from  the  putrefying  body  was  such 
that  it  became  necessary  to  arrive  at  some  mode  of  pro- 
tection against  this  new  plague.  A  gaucho  (a  country- 
man, always  on  horseback,  whose  existence  is  divided 
between  taking  care  of  herds  of  cattle,  rapine,  civil  war, 
and  robbery  in  general)  had  an  idea  of  making  use  of  his 


BAD  PRIESTS.  473 

lasso  (the  lasso  is  a  strap  of  thirty  or  forty  feet  in  length, 
at  the  end  of  which  is  a  slip-knot,  which  he  throws  from 
his  running  horse  to  an  incredible  distance,  and  with  which 
he  seizes  oxen  and  wild  horses  either  by  the  head  or  legs) ; 
he  threw  the  lasso,  at  a  great  distance,  and  caught  the 
body  by  one  leg,  and  drew  it  to  a  distant  spot  on  the  desert 
of  the  Pampas,  where  he  left  it  to  the  biixis  of  prey,  who 
would  soon  despatch  it.  Do  not  let  the  character  of  the 
dead  add  anything  to  the  horror  with  which  this  proceed- 
ing will  inspire  you.  The  clergy  have  shown  themselves 
to  be  what  they  have  always  been  here — rapacious,  cow- 
ardly, corrupt,  hideous,  egotistic,  the  receptacle,  finally, 
of  all  the  vices  which  are  engendered  by  idleness,  ignorance, 
laziness,  hypocrisy,  and  the  impunity  with  which  all  their 
worst  passions  are  satiated.  A  few  Sisters  of  Charity  have 
alone  shown  themselves,  as  always,  devoted.  They  are,  I 
should  add,  Europeans ;  but  what  could  five  or  six  good 
creatui^s  do  in  the  midst  of  a  plague  which  has  carried  off 
in  three  months  twenty-five  thousand  souls?  Those  who 
live  among  the  English  or  the  French  Catholic  clergy  can 
never  know  what  a  bad  priest  can  be.  The  cassocked 
bandits  of  South  America  must  be  seen  to  comprehend  the 
indignation  which  animates  me. 

Those  of  Buenos  Ayres  are  authorized  by  law  to  collect 
twenty  francs  for  every  corpse  buried  by  them ;  but  the 
law  adds :  "When  the  means  of  the  family  of  the  deceased 
shall  enable  it  to  be  paid."  They  saw  that  the  harvest 
promised  to  be  fruitful,  so  they  raised  this  right  of  sepul- 
ture to  forty  francs,  and,  like  vultures,  fatten  upon  dead 
bodies.  The  more  dead  bodies  there  were,  the  greater  the 
merry-making  among  them.  The  municipality,  learning 
that  a  great  number  of  corpses  were  lying  deprived  of 
sepulture  on  the  ground  at  the  gate  of  one  of  the  ceme- 
teries, the  poverty  of  their  relations  depriving  them  of  the 
luxury  of  possessing  forty  francs,  gave  notice  to  the  gentle- 
men priests  that  they  must  nothwithstimding  bury  them, 
pro  Dei  gratia  (for  God's  sake).  These  worthy  ministers 
of  a  religion  of  devotion,  of  charity,  and  of  poverty  refused 
to  give  extreme  unction  to  those  who  did  not  pay  in  ad- 
vance the  expense  of  their  future  burial.  What  a  race ! 
What  a  people !    The  people  of  the  Argentine  Republic 

40* 


474  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

is  the  sink  from  whence  flow  all  turpitudes,  all  corrup- 
tions, and  every  bad  human  passion.  In  this  nation  all 
are  abandoned  by  Providence.  Cowards,  vultures,  liars, 
robbers ;  envious,  ignorant,  unpolished ;  cultivating  little 
true  warfare — ^that  which  is  made  openly,  with  the  breast 
bared — ^but,  in  lieu  thereof,  excelling  in  the  use  of  the 
dagger,  and  of  the  knife,  which  enables  them  to  stab  an  in- 
dividual in  the  back;  theft  dispenses  them  from  labour ;  the 
word  republic  (an  outrage  on  the  elevated  principles  which 
this  word  represents)  serves  them  as  a  cloak  under  which 
they  give  themselves  up  to  every  kind  of  despotism  and 
vileness.  The  strong,  the  ambitious,  the  brazen-faced  take 
possession  by  force  and  suck  the  milch-cow — the  public 
treasury — until  another  band  of  powerful,  shameless,  or 
ambitious  ones  without  principles  hurl  them  from  power. 
There  are  murders  without  end;  they  cut  each  other's 
throats ;  and  this  is  the  Argentine  Kepublic.  Alas !  I 
might  almost  say,  behold  the  Spanish- American  republics; 
for,  except  Chili,  all  the  governments  of  these  agglomera- 
tions of  bandits  which  sully  the  banner  of  American 
liberty,  and  which  call  themselves  republics,  from  Mexico 
to  Cape  Horn,  are  nothing^  but  brigandage,  theft,  barbar- 
ism, and  cruelty — organiz^  and  unpunished. 

BtJEXos  Aybes,  May  25. 

The  saddest  country  in  the  world,  a  frog*  that  puffs 
itself  up  to  become  an  ox !— every  where  exaggerated  pre- 
tensions, a  universal  corruption  which  commences  at  the 
lowest  round  of  the  social  scale  and  reaches  to  those  which 
are  at  the  highest.  Money  taking  the  place  of  everything, 
the  churcl;  a  shop,  the  government  a  barrack,  the  army  a 
cut-throat— only  one  worship,  only  one  religion,  that  of 
Plutus.  Venus  herself  is  not  adored,  and  even  in  the 
most  aristocratic  circles  she  is  only  worshipped  under 
the  figure  of  the  golden  calf.  This  takes  place  in  the 
aristocratic  regions;  judge  of  the  rest.  Sad!  sad!  The 
republic  here  is  an  outrage  on  justice,  an  odious  farce. 

Montevideo,  December  15,  1868. 

I  am  writing  at  this  moment  my  grand  '  Tarantelle'  for 
the  piano  with  orchestral  accompaniment,  which  '  Taran- 


SEVEN  OCTAVES.  475 

telle'  I  have  dedicated  to  Her  Roval  Highness  the  Priiwess 
Marguerite,  of  Italy.  One  of  my  best  frieuds,  Count  Gioan- 
ninni,  an  excellent  amateur  pianist,  ex-minister  from  Italy 
to  Buenos  Ayres,  has  promised  to  present  the  composi- 
tion to  the  princess,  himself,  and  assures  me  that  it  will  be 
worth  the  new  decoration  of  Italy,  which  has  just  been 
instituted  by  the  king,  Victor  Emanuel.^ 

I  compose  also  a  great  deal  for  Ditson  of  Boston  under 
the  pseudony me  of  '  Seven  Octaves,'  and  also  for  Schott  of 
Mayence  who  asks  me  for  twelve  pieces  a  year. 

«  «  «  «  * 


1  NOTE. 

The  composer  having  died  before  the  presentation  of  this  composition 
to  the  Princess  of  Italy,  and  even  before  he  had  entirely  revised  it,  it 
happened  that,  when  after  his  death  his  trunks  were  opened  and  pillaged 
by  the  hands  of  strangers,  and  even  before  his  family  knew  of  his  death, 
the  poor  *  Tarantelle,'  only  written  on  a  few  detached  leaves  and  very  im- 
perfectly, was  published  by  persons  of  very  small  scruples,  in  a  state  of 
complete  mutilation.  Later,  the  intimate  friend  of  Gottschalk,  Mr.  N.  R. 
Espadero,  of  Havana,  edited  this  *  Tarantelle*  at  the  request  of  Gotts- 
chalk's  family,  from  the  artist's  manuscript,  and  Mr.  Escudier,  of  Paris, 
has  published  it  for  a  full  orchestra,  also  for  two  pianos,  and  with  quin- 
tette accompaniment,  C.  G. 


CONCLUSION. 


Here  concludes  (as  far  as  recovered)  the  diary  kept  by  the 
celebrated  artist,  Louis  Moreau  Gottschalk,  for  so  many  years. 
The  letters  written  to  his  family,  which  may  be  published  at  some 
future  day,  will  supply  in  some  degree  the  lacuna  found  in  the  last 
year  of  his  life. 

The  news  of  his  death  was  such  a  sudden  and  unexpected  blow 
to  his  brother  and  sisters  that  they  refused  for  a  long  time  to  be- 
lieve it.  Ill  from  an  attack  of  yellow  fever  in  August,  1869,  he 
sufficiently  recovered  to  commence  a  series  of  concerts,  with  an 
orchestra  of  nine  hundred  musicians,  which  he  himself  directed  in 
the  execution  of  his  orchestral  works.  The  letters  speak  with 
pleasure  of  the  immense  success  which  he  was  having  at  Bio 
Janeiro,  and  of  the  kindness  and  enthusiasm  with  which  he  was 
received  at  the  palace  by  the  £mperor  and  Empress.  He  sent  to 
his  sisters  in  every  letter  extracts  from  the  papers,  whose  eulogi- 
ums  attained  so  high  a  pitch,  that  it  seemed  impossible  for  them  to 
express  the  extraordinary  enthusiasm  which  the  artist  had  excited 
by  his  genius  as  well  as  by  his  intelligence,  his  distinguished  man- 
ners, and  generous  and  good  heart,  which  had  caused  him  to  be 
sought  by  all  in  making  him  the  idol  of  the  masses. 

Mr.  Preall^,  of  Rio,  a  friend  of  Gottschalk,  wrote  to  his  sisters 
towards  the  end  of  December,  1869,  with  all  the  feeling  which  his 
affection  for  the  artist  and  his  great  sympathy  for  his  sisters  could 
suggest,  announcing  to  them  the  death  of  their  much  loved  brother, 
and  spoke  of  the  general  mourning  into  which  his  death  had  thrown 
the  city,  as  also  of  the  honours  rendered  the  illustrious  artist  after 
his  death. 

Delicately  as  this  death  was  announced,  and  although  his  family 
(476) 


CONCLUSION.  477 

were  in  some  sort  prepared  for  a  catastrophe,  not  having  had  any 
letters  for  two  months,  it  was  a  thunder-stroke,  and  one  of  those 
griefs  so  profound  that  it  is  better  to  pass  rapidly  over  this  period, 
in  order  to  speak  of  the  extraordinary  events  which  followed  it. 

To  the  numerous  letters  addressed  by  the  family  to  the  physi- 
cian who  had  attended  Gottschalk,  to  the  friends  who  had  sur- 
rounded him  with  so  much  solicitude,  to  the  landlord  of  the  hotel 
at  Tejuca  where  he  gave  his  last  sigh,  to  learn  what  had  taken 
place  during  his  last  moments,  no  answer  was  ever  received,  and 
up  to  the  present  time,  by  a  species  of  fatality  impossible  to  under- 
stand, his  family  know  absolutely  nothing  about  his  last  moments, 
nor  about  the  true  cause  of  his  death. 

A  number  of  excellent  and  devoted  friends,  at  the  head  of  whom 
was  the  Baron  Vargeaud,  wrote  sympathetic  letters  to  the  family,  in 
which  they  deeply  grieved  for  the  amiable  and  distinguished  man, 
the  man  of  feeling  and  intelligence  as  well  as  the  great  artist,  all 
adding  that  the  city  of  Rio  "  had  never  been  plunged  into  a  mourn- 
ing so  profound ;"  but  no  one  satisfied  the  cruel  doubts,  the  terrible 
anguish,  into  which  the  brother  and  sisters  of  Gottschalk  were 
plunged. 

To  render  their  grief  still  more  poignant  a  series  of  incompre- 
hensible acts,  in  a  country  as  civilized  as  Brazil,  followed  with  such 
great  rapidity,  that  whatever  might  have  been  the  means  employed, 
nothing  could  arrest  its  course.  Directly  a  faithless  servant  profited 
by  the  confusion  which  the  death  of  Gottschalk  had  occasioned  (a 
very  different  conduct  from  what  might  have  been  expected  of  him 
after  ten  years  of  service),  and  endeavoured  to  give  effect  to  a  paper, 
without  any  signature  whatever,  by  which  he  claimed  a  large  sum 
by  way  of  legacy.  This  demand  not  being  considered  worthy  of  a 
moment's  notice,  he  commenced  a  suit  at  law.  The  judgment  was 
against  him.  He  went  so  far  as  even  to  cause  the  body  of  his  master 
to  be  seized  when  it  was  going  to  be  carried  to  the  steamer  which 
was  to  convey  it  to  New  York,  where  the  family  for  six  months  had 
been  expecting  it.  Fortunately  he  failed.  The  friends  of  Gotts- 
schalk,  indignant  at  this  outrage,  succeeded  through  their  united 
efforts  in  preventing  his  project^  and  the  mortal  remains  of  the 


478  NOTES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

artist  arrived  at  New  York  at  the  beginning  of  October,  1870, 
almost  a  year  after  his  death,  every  effort  of  the  family  of  the  de- 
ceased up  to  that  time  having  failed. 

At  the  death  of  Gottschalk  his  valet  placed  in  the  hands  of  the 
American  vice-consul  a  little  trunk  in  which  he  had,  so  he  said, 
placed  the  decorations,  jewels,  etc.  The  vice-consul  handed  it 
over  to  the  government. 

A  letter  from  the  Judge  of  the  Widows'  and  Orphans'  Court  at 
Rio,  written  in  Febru^iry,  1870  (two  months  after  the  death  of 
Gottschalk),  informed  his  family  that  his  effects,  trunks,  clothes, 
etc.,  would  be  sold  at  auction  on  the  eighteenth  of  March — the 
government  taking  advantage  of  an  ancient  law,  <  le  droit  (Tauhaine^* 
by  which  the  effects  of  a  foreigner,  after  his  death,  are  sold  for  the 
benefit  of  widows  and  orphans.  This  letter  arrived  at  the  end  of 
March,  and  after  the  sale  had  taken  place ;  there  was  no  time  to 
do  anything.  The  contents  of  a  trunk,  consisting  of  some  unfin- 
ished compositions  in  manuscript,  were  published  by  a  publisher 
at  Rio,  and  soon  a  number  of  compositions  appeared,  whose  sole 
guarantee  was  the  name  of  Gottschalk,  these  compositions  being 
published  from  unfinished  and  incomplete  manuscripts. 

Fortunately  for  the  artistic  world,  the  devoted  and  disinterested 
friend  of  Gottschalk,  Mr.  N.  R.  Espadero,  of  Havana,  has  been 
able,  aided  by  manuscripts  in  possession  of  the  family,  and  of 
those  which  he  had  himself  received  from  Gottschalk,  to  pro- 
duce a  series  of  posthumous  works,  in  the  number  of  which  are 
found  some  mazourkas — *  Scherzo  Romantique,'  *  Caprice  Polka,' 
*  Second  Banjo,'  '  La  Grande  Tarantelle,'  *  El  Cocoye,'  *  Caprice 
Cubain,'  and  many  others.  Another  series,  edited  by  one  of  his 
sisters,  also  appeared — *  Rayons  d'Azur,'  *  Oberon  k  4  Mains,'  *  Mar- 
guerite' valse,  and  an  ^  Ave  Maria'  for  the  voice  from  a  part  of  it. 

The  American  vice-consul  had  the  delicacy  to  purchase  at 
auction  the  trunk  of  clothes  for  the  family,  who  preserve  for  him  a 
grateful  remembrance. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  enumerate  the  measures  taken  by  the 
family  during  the  four  years  which  followed. 

Kindly  received  by  their  majesties  the  Emperor  and  Empress, 


CONCLUSION.  479 

at  the  time  of  their  journej  to  England,  the  sisters  of  Gottschalk 
had  hoped  that  soon  all  would  be  ended.  It,  however,  amounted 
to  nothing,  except  a  continued  correspondence.  By  an  incompre- 
hensible fatality,  as  soon  as  one  power  of  attorney  was  sent  on  de- 
mand, the  person  named  in  it  had  left  Rio  and  another  became 
necessary.  Four  powers  of  attorney  were  thus  sent,  the  first  to 
the  vice-consul  of  the  United  States,  the  second  to  the  minister, 
and  the  others  to  the  consul  and  minister  of  the  German  Empire. 
Finally  in  December,  1873,  the  trunk  of  papers  was  transmitted  to 
the  sisters  of  Gottschalk,  through  the  medium  of  the  Brazilian 
minister  in  London. 

These  papers  had  evidently  been  considered  of  no  value,  and  for 
this  reason  had  been  sent,  but  the  condition  in  which  they  were 
found  rendered  the  labour  of  many  months  ,necessary  before  the 
value  of  the  notes,  which  were  to  form  the  book  presented  to-day 
to  the  public,  could  be  ascertained.  Some  hundreds  of  scattered 
leaves,  many  torn  in  two,  had  to  be  matched,  others  which  had 
been  exposed  to  dampness,  rendered  almost  illegible  (the  ink  being 
hardly  visible),  had  to  bo  carefully  re-copied.  It  was  a  veritable 
chaos,  but  the  artist's  sisters,  too  happy  in  having  possession  of  them, 
resolved  that  these  notes  should  be  published,  and  one  of  them 
undertook  the  slow  and  arduous  work  of  putting  them  in  order, 
which  took  two  long  years— and  eleven  years  from  his  death  will 
have  passed  before  the  notes  of  his  travels  will  be  read  by  the 
public.  These  notes,  written  in  French,  have  been  translated  by  the 
brother-in-law  of  the  deceased,  Dr.  Robert  E.  Peterson,  of  Phila- 
delphia. The  task  was  somewhat  difficult  on  account  of  the  fine, 
delicate,  and  original  style  of  Gottschalk,  which  is  not  easily  ex- 
pressed in  English. 

In  February,  1876,  his  sisters  received  a  letter  from  Brazil, 
advising  them  that  there  would  be  forwarded  to  them  in  a  short 
time  a  small  box  containing  his  decorations,  also  a  small  sum  of 
money,  the  only  remains  of  their  brother's  effects.  These  decora- 
tions, among  which  the  most  beautiful  one  presented  to  him  by  the 
city  of  New^  Orleans,  his  natal  city,  was  missing,  were  received  with 


480  NO  TES  OF  A  PIANIST. 

great  joy,  as  his  family  had  lost  all  hope  of  ever  getting  possession 
of  them. 

These  few  pages  have  been,  for  many  reasons,  written  with  dif- 
ficulty, the  best  of  which  is  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  speak 
calmly  and  without  bitterness  of  events  whose  injustice  has  been 
so  vividly  felt.  Many  other  facts  which  would  do  but  little  honour 
to  the  guilty,  and  by  which  the  family  has  been  deprived  of  what 
Gottschalk  had  left  them  in  the  United  States,  have  been  de- 
signedly omitted.  After  all,  what  are  these  few  persons,  forgetful 
of  what  they  owe  to  the  memory  of  the  great  artist,  compared  to 
his  numerous  friends  of  all  countries,  who  preserve  an  affection 
for  him  which  time  will  never  efface  ? 

These  notes  of  travel,  these  inmost  thoughts,  these  letters  are 
like  a  sacred  legacy  which  the  brother  and  sisters  of  Gottschalk 
wish  his  friends  to  share  with  them ;  and  it  is  with  the  utmost 
confidence  that  they  ofler  to  the  public  this  volume,  certain  that 
it  will  be  received  with  the  same  kindness,  the  same  cordiality 
which  have  always  been  shown  to  the  great  American  pianist  and 
composer,  Louis  Mobeau  Gottschalk.  C.  G.